Your gal and sportsman all,
come listen to me story
It's of the bald skewball,
our noble racing pony
And the marvel of the man,
who brought bald skewball over
He's the diamond of the land,
and he rolls around in clover
Oh, the kettle were brought out
With saddle, whip, and bridle
And the gentlemen did shout
When they saw the gallant rider
Some cried hooray
And the air was thick with curses
And then on the Gregory Zelda
The sportsmen laid their purses
Oh, the trumpet did sound
And they shot off like an arrow
Scarcely touched the ground,
and the go ing, it was narrow,
But Griselda passed him by,
and the sportsmen all did holler,
For the grey will win the day,
and skewball he can follow.
In the middle of the track
Upspoke the noble rider
Fear we must fall back
For she's running like a tiger
Upspoke the gallant horse
Oh, ride on, ride on, me master
For we're half -way round the course
And now you'll see who's faster
And after this discourse
While skewball blew like lightning
He dashed around the course
and the grey mare she was taking
Bet on me, noble lord,
for a good two hundred guineas
For the saddle shall be of gold
when we pick up our winnings
Well past the Wynn and Post,
while skewball once a -handy,
And horse and rider
both called for sherry, wine and brandy,
And they drunk to that grey mare,
or the gallant Miss Griselda,
And to all who'd lost their money
on this port in Plains of Kildare.