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Roger Mcguinn - Stewball Lyrics

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  • He wore a high head
  • And the mane on his foretop
  • Was fine as silk thread
  • I rode him in England
  • I rode him in Spain
  • He never did lose, boys
  • He always did gain
  • So come all you gamblers
  • Wherever you are
  • And don't bet your money
  • On that little grey mare
  • Most likely she'll stumble
  • Most likely she'll fall
  • But you never will lose, boys
  • On my noble Stewball
  • As they were a-riding
  • 'Bout halfway around
  • That grey mare she stumbled
  • And fell to the ground
  • And away out yonder
  • Ahead of them all
  • Came a prancin' and a dancin'
  • My noble Stewball

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