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