Stewball

Way out in California where old Stewball was born
All the jockeys in the country said he blew there in a storm

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All the jockeys in the country said he blew there in a storm
All the women in the country said he never was known

His bridle, it was silver, his saddle it was gold
But the price on his blanket has never been told

The horses, they were saddled, and the word was given Go!
Old Stewball, he shot off like an arrow from a bow

All the old folks, they hollered, all the young folks they did bawl
But the children said "look, look at that noble Stewball!"

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