Stewball from The Gallimaufry by Zak Ward

Stewball was a race horse 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 and Stewball was there
but the betting was heavy on the bay and the mare.

As they were approaching about halfway round
the gray mare she stumbled, and fell to the ground.

and way up yonder, ahead of them all
came a prancin' and a dancin' my noble Stewball.

I bet on he gray mare. I bet on the bay.
If i'd have bet on old Stewball I'd be a rich man today.

Stewball was a race horse and I wish he were mine
He ne'er did drink water he always drank wine.

• Rock
• indie
• rock and roll
• Buffalo