Stewball

Oh, Stewball was a racehorse,

And I wish he were mine.

He never drank water,

He always drank wine.

His bridal was silver,

and his mane, it was gold,

And the work on his saddle

has never been tooled.

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-dancin' and a-prancin'

My noble stewball.

I bet on the gray mare,

And I bet on the bay.

If I had bet on ol' Stewball,

I'd be a free man today.

Oh, the hoot owl, she hollered

And the turtle dove moaned

Of a poor boy in trouble

on a long way from home.

Oh, Stewball was a racehorse,

And I wish he were mine.

He never drank water,

He always drank wine.