Two More Horse Songs

But first I need to make an apology and a correction on something I said in the first Barbaro post below. I heard one of the treating vets on NPR a little bit later and he said that the owners of Barbaro have spent more money on horses worth far less. They are people who love their horses. I still don't get behind much racing though. These horses that run so fast are mere babies. As three year olds they have already been running flat out with a rider for at least a year. I bring mine along much more slowly. No full weight until they are past three, no regular riding for a lot longer. I'm just not prepared to blow up six or seven horses to find that one magical mount.

I was sickened when I saw Barbaro break down. I knew right then that the horse was not going to be alright. Even under the best circumstances a broken leg is usually a death sentence for a horse. Their lungs won't even work correctly if they are aren't moving.

This one's from Woody Guthrie. He said it was one of the first songs he learned and he knows it's the first one he ever got paid for singing. It seems Woody was knocking around the streets of a little town in Oklahoma when he was a boy, trying to put some money together shining boots and shoes when he heard a man playing a harmonica. Woody talked to him and the man told him if he could sing this song then he would give Woody the harmonica.

Old Stewball

Old Stewball was a racehorse,
And I wish he was mine.
He never drank water,
He'd only drink wine.

His bridle was silver,
And his reins they was gold,
And the wealth on his saddle
Ain't never been told.

Oh the racetrack was crowded,
And Stewball was there,
But the betting was heavy
On the bay and the mare.

As they was running,
'Bout 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 hollered,
And the turtle dove moaned.
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.

This one's from Doc Watson

Tennessee Stud

Along about eighteen and forty five
I left Tennessee pretty much alive
I never could have forded on the Arkansas flood
If I hadn't been riding on my Tennessee Stud.
I had a little trouble with my girlfriend's pa
And one of her brothers was a bad outlaw
So I sent her a letter by my Uncle Dud
And off I rode on my Tennessee Stud.

(Chorus)
The Tennessee Stud is long and lean
He's the color of the sun and his eyes are green
He had the nerve and he had the blood
There ain't never been a horse like my Tennessee Stud.

I went down into no man's land
I crossed that river called the Rio Grande
I raced my horse with the Spaniard's foals
And I won myself a pocket full of silver and gold
Me and this gambler we couldn't agree
We got in a fight over Tennessee
He went for his guns and he fell with a thud
And off I rode on my Tennessee Stud.

(Chorus)

I got lonesome as a man can be
Thinking 'bout my girl back in Tennessee
The Tennessee Stud's green eyes turned blue
He was a thinkin' of his sweetheart too
I went back through Arkansas
I whupped her brother then I whupped her pa
I grabbed that girl with the golden hair
And Lord, she was riding her a Tennessee Mare
Stirrup to stirrup and side by side
We crossed them mountains and the valleys wide
We come to Big Muddy and we parted the flood
On a Tennessee Mare and a Tennessee Stud

(Chorus)

There's a pretty little baby on the cabin floor
There's a pretty little filly outside the door
I love that girl with the golden hair
And my Tennessee Stud loves that Tennessee Mare

The Tennessee Stud he's long and lean
He's the color of the sun and his eyes are green
He had the nerve and he had the blood
There ain't never been a horse like my
Tennessee Stud.


Adios Barbaro.