Stewball (Peter Paul & Mary)                      
                                                  
Old Stewball was a race horse, And I wish he      
were mine. He never drank water, He always drank  
wine.                                             
                                                  
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  
the mare.                                         
                                                  
I bet on the gray mare,  And I bet on the         
bay. If I'd bet on old Stewball, I'd be a free    
man today.                                        
                                                  
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 ...")