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Stewball (Baez Joan)

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