Peter Paul and Mary

Old Stewball was a [D] racehorse, and I wish he were [Em] mine.   He never drank [A] water, he always drank [ D G A ] wine.  His bridle was [D] silver, his mane it was [Em] gold.  And the worth of his [A] saddle has never been [ D G A ] told.

Oh the fairgrounds were [D] crowded, and Stewball was [Em] there,   But the betting was [A] heavy on the bay and the [ D G A ] mare.  And a-way up [D] yonder, ahead of them [Em] all, came a [A] prancin’ and a-dancin’ my noble [ D G A ] Stewball.

Well now they are [D] riding, ’bout halfway [Em] around,  And the gray mare she [A] stumbled and fell on the [ D G A ] ground.  Now prancing up [D] yonder, and keeping the lead [Em] was my noble[A] Stewball’   [ D G A ] my once noble steed.

I bet on the [D] grey mare, I bet on the [Em] bay.  If I’d have bet on ol’ [A] Stewball, I’d be a rich man [ D G A ] today.  Oh the hoot owl, she [D] hollers, and the turtle dove [Em] moans.  I’m a poor boy in [A] trouble, I’m a long way from [ D G A ] home.

Old Stewball was a [D] racehorse, and I wish he were [Em] mine.  He never drank [A] water, he always drank [ D ] wine.