Stewball: Lyrics

Traditional

• LP Cowboy Ballads
• LP Passing Through

Stewball was a good horse
And he held a high head
And the mane on his foretop
Was fine as silk thread

I rode him in England
And I rode him in Spain
And I never did lose, boys
I always did gain

So come all you gamblers
From near and from far
Don't bet your gold dollar
On that little grey mare

Most likely she will stumble
Most likely she'll fall
But you never will lose
On my noble Stewball

Sit tight on your saddle
Let slack on your rein
And you never will lose boys,
You always will gain

As they were a-riding
'Bout halfway 'round
That grey mare she stumbled
And fell to the ground

And 'way out yonder
Ahead of them all
Came dancin' and prancin'
My noble Stewball

Stewball was a good horse
And he held a high head
And the mane on his foretop
Was fine as silk thread

I rode him in England
And I rode him in Spain
And I never did lose, boys
I always did gain

Of note:

One little touch shows Cisco's deft touch. The written lyric, which he follows quite closely elsewhere, says

And don't bet your money
On that little grey mare

but Cisco uses the far more evocative

Don't bet your gold dollar
On that little grey mare

Gold dollar conveys so much more than money--prosaic to poetry.

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