Stewball Lyrics - Woody's Roots - Woody Guthrie

Stewball was a good horse 

And he held a high head 

And the mane on his foretop 

Was fine as silk thread 

I rode him in England 

And I rode him in Spain 

And I never did lose, boys 

I always did gain 

So come all you gamblers 

From near and from far 

Don't bet your gold dollar 

On that little grey mare 

Most likely she will stumble 

Most likely she'll fall 

But you never will lose 

On my noble Stewball 

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Sit tight on your saddle 

Let slack on your rein 

And you never will lose boys, 

You always will gain 

As they were a-riding 

'Bout halfway 'round 

That grey mare she stumbled 

And fell to the ground 

And 'way out yonder 

Ahead of them all 

Came dancin' and prancin' 

My noble Stewball 

Stewball was a good horse 

And he held a high head 

And the mane on his foretop 

Was fine as silk thread 

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I rode him in England 

And I rode him in Spain 

And I never did lose, boys 

I always did gain