Chad Mitchell Trio - Stewball lyrics

Well Stewball was a race horse And he held a high head And the mane on his foretop Was as fine as silk thread His bridle was silver And his harness was gold And the price on his saddle Has never been told Well I rode him in England And I rode him in Spain And I bet you five dollars I'll ride him again Now come all you gamblers Wherever you are And don't bet your money On the little grey mare Most likely she'll stumble (She will stumble) Most likely she'll fall (And she'll fall) But you never will lose, boys (Never will lose) On my noble Stewball Well now they are riding (Now they are riding) 'Bout halfway around ('Bout halfway around) And the grey mare she stumbled (The grey mare she stumbled) And fell on the ground And away out yonder Way ahead of them all Came a dancin' and prancin' My noble Stewball Came a dancin' and prancin' My noble Stewball