Stew Ball

Stewball was a good horse

And he held a high head

And the mane on his foretop

Was fine as silk thread

I rode him in England

And I rode him in Spain

And I never did lose boys

I always did gain

So come all you gamblers

From near and from far

Don't bet your gold dollar

On that little grey mare

Most likely she will stumble

Most likely she'll fall

But you never will lose

On my noble Stewball

Sit tight on your saddle

Let slack on your rein

And you never will lose boys

You always will gain

As they were a-riding

'Bout halfway 'round

That grey mare she stumbled

And fell to the ground

And 'way out yonder

Ahead of them all

Came dancin' and prancin'

My noble Stewball

Stewball was a good horse

And he held a high head

And the mane on his foretop

Was fine as silk thread

I rode him in England

And I rode him in Spain

And I never did lose boys

I always did gain