G Emi Ami
Stewball was a good horse he wore his head high
D G C D
and the mane on his foretop was 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 bet your money on that little grey mare.
Most likely she'll stumble most likely she'll fall
but never you'll 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 a-dancing my noble Stewball.
Stewball was a race horse and by the day he was mine
he never drank water he always drank wine.