oh stewball was a racehorse 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
oh the fairgrounds were crowded and stewball was there
but the betting was heavy on the bay and the mare
and away up yonder ahead of them all
came aprancin’ and adancin’ my noble stewball
i bet on the grey mare i bet on the bay
if i’d have bet on ol’ stewball i’d be a free man today
oh the hoot owl she hollers and the turtle dove moans
i’m a poor boy in trouble i’m a long way from home
oh stewball was a racehorse and i wish he were mine
he never drank waterhe always drank wine
Artist: Peter Paul Mary
Year: 1963
Decade: 60s
Language: en
Word Count: 74