Peter Paul And Mary Ppm Stewball Oh, Stewball was a racehorse, And I wish he were mine. He never drank water, He always drank wine. His bridal was silver, and his mane, it was gold, And the work on his saddle has never been tooled. Oh, the fairgrounds were crowded, And Stewball was there But the betting was heavy on the bay and the mare. And a-way up yonder, Ahead of them all Came a-dancin' and a-prancin' My noble stewball. Oh, the hoot owl, she hollered And the turtle dove moaned Of a poor boy in trouble on a long way from home. I bet on the gray mare, And I bet on the bay. If I had bet on ol' Stewball, I'd be a free man today. Oh, Stewball was a racehorse, And I wish he were mine. He never drank water, He always drank wine. |
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