| Oh Stewball was a and I he never drank he always drank His bridle was silver his main it was gold and the worth of his saddle has never been told Oh the fairgrounds were crowded and Stewball was there but the betting was heavy on the bay and the mare And a-way up yonder ahead of them all came a-prancin´ and a-dancin´ my noble Stewball I bet on the grey mare I bet on the bay if I´d have bet on ol´ Stewball I´d be a free man today Oh the hoot owl she hollers and the turtle dove moans I´m a poor boy in trouble I´m a long way from home ------------------------ other lyrics: Stewball was a good horse, he held a high head And the mane on his foretop was as fine as silk thread I rode him in England I rode him in Spain He was never a loser And I always did gain Sit tight you young jockey, let slack on your rein And you never will lose, boy, And you always will gain Supposing he stumbles He might even fall And he´ll still be a winner, that´s my noble Stewball Stewball was a good horse, he held a high head And the mane on his foretop was as fine as silk thread I rode him in England I rode him in Spain He was never a loser And I always did gain |
