Stewball

[Verse 1] Stewball was a good horse, he wore a high head And the mane on his foretop was fine as silk thread I rode him in England, I rode him in Spain And I never did lose, boys, I always did gain [Verse 2] So come all you gamblers, wherever you are And don't place your money on the little grey mare Most likely she'll stumble, most likely she'll fall But never you will lose, boys, on my noble Stewball [Guitar Solo] [Verse 3] As they were a-riding, 'bout halfway round That grey mare, she stumbled, and fell on the ground And way out yonder, ahead of them all Came a-prancing and dancing, my noble Stewball