Stewball (Peter Paul & Mary)
Old Stewball was a race horse, And I wish he
were mine. He never drank water, He always drank
His bridle was silver, His mane it was gold. And
the worth of his saddle, Has never been told.
I went to the fairgrounds, Old Stewball was
there. And the betting was heavy, On the bay and
I bet on the gray mare, And I bet on the
bay. If I'd bet on old Stewball, I'd be a free
Oh, the hoot how he hooted, And the
turtledove moaned. I'm a poor boy in trouble, A
long way from home.
(repeat "Old Stewball was ...")