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Lyrics

1. Stewball was a good horse
He wore a high head
And the mane on his foretop
Was fine as silk thread

2. I rode him in England
I rode him in Spain
I never did lose, boys
I always did gain

3. So come all you gamblers
Wherever you are
And don't bet your money
On that little grey mare

4. Most likely she'll stumble
Most likely she'll fall
But you never will lose, boys
On my noble Stewball

5. As they were a-riding
'Bout halfway around
That grey mare she stumbled
And fell on the ground

6. And away out yonder
Ahead of them all
Came a prancin' and a dancin'
My noble Stewball