| D | G | A |
| D | |
| Old Stewball was a | racehorse, |
| Em | |
| And I wish he were | mine. |
| A | |
| He never drank | water, |
| D | G | A | |
| He only drank | wine. |
| D | |
| His bridle was | silver, |
| And his mane it was gold, |
| And the worth of his saddle |
| Has never been told. |
| Oh the fairgrounds were crowded, |
| And Stewball was there, |
| But the betting was heavy |
| On the bay and the mare. |
| As they were approaching, |
| About half way around, |
| The gray mare she stumbled |
| and fell to the ground. |
| And away out yonder, |
| Ahead of them all, |
| Came a-prancing and a-dancing, |
| My noble Stewball. |
| I bet on the gray mare |
| And I bet on the bay. |
| If I'd bet on old Stewball |
| I'd be a free man today. |
| Oh the hoot owl she hollers, |
| And the turtle dove moans. |
| I'm a poor boy in trouble. |
| I'm a long way from home. |
| Old Stewball was a racehorse, |
| And I wish he were mine. |
| He never drank water, |
| He only drank wine. |