Stewball

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.

The fairgrounds were crowded, Stewball was there,
But the betting was heavy, on the Grey and the Mare,

Away out yonder, way ahead of them all,
Come prancin’ and a’dancin’, flying old Stewball.

I bet on the Grey Mare, and I bet on the Bay,
If I’d bet on old Stewball, I’d be a free man today.

The hoot owl she hollers, and the turtledove moans,
I’m a poor boy in trouble and I’m a long way from home.

Stewball was a racehorse and I wish he were mine,
He never drank water, he always drank wine.

key of G (2:55) live
Jim Hancock - vocal, mandolin
Eddie Jeff Cahill - vocal, guitar