Lyrics:

Stewball was a good horse
He wore a high head
And the mane on his foretop
Was as 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 place your money
On the 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 'round
That grey mare, she stumbled
And fell on the ground
And way out yonder
Ahead of them all
Came a-prancing and dancing
My noble Stewball