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 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.