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Stewball
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Joan Baez
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1
Stewball was a good horse, he wore his head high,
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And the mane on his foretop, was fine as silk thread.
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I rode him in England, I rode him in Spain,
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And I never did lose, boys, I always did gain.
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So come all you gamblers, wherever you are,
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and don't bet your money on that little grey mare.
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Most likely she'll stumble, most likely she'll fall,
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But never you'll lose, boys, on my noble Stewball.
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As they were a-riding, 'bout halfway round,
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That grey mare she stumbled, and fell on the ground.
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And way out yonder, ahead of them all,
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Came a-prancing and a-dancing, my noble Stewball.
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Stewball was a race horse, and by the day he was mine,
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He never drank water, he always drank wine.
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(Joan Baez)
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