Stewball was a good horse, he wore his head high, Stewball是一匹好马，他穿着他的头高，

And the mane on his foretop, was fine as silk thread. 而在他的foretop鬃毛，是细如丝线。

I rode him in England, I rode him in Spain, 我骑着他在英格兰，我骑着他在西班牙，

And I never did lose, boys, I always did gain. 我从来没输，孩子们，我总是做增益。

So come all you gamblers, wherever you are, 这样一来你的赌徒，无论你在哪里，

And don't bet your money on that little grey mare. 也不要赌你的钱是小灰马。

Most likely she'll stumble, most likely she'll fall, 最有可能她会绊倒，很有可能她会掉下，

But never you'll lose, boys, on my noble Stewball. 但从来没有你输了，男孩，我的高贵的Stewball 。

As they were a-riding, 'bout halfway round, 由于他们是一个骑， 回合中途轮，

That grey mare she stumbled, and fell on the ground. 那灰色的母马，她迷迷糊糊的，倒在地上。

And way out yonder, ahead of them all, 和出路那边，在他们前面的是，

Came a-prancing and a-dancing, my noble Stewball. 来了，法拉利和跳舞，我的高贵的Stewball 。

Stewball was a race horse, and by the day he was mine, Stewball是一匹赛马，以及由天，他是我的，

He never drank water, he always drank wine. 他从来不喝水，他总是喝的酒。