From memory (mondegreen warning! In brackets! []:

Come all you men of sportin' blood and listen to my story
It's of the gallant Stewball, a gallant racin' pony.
It's also of his rider, who brought ol' Stewball over,
He said "[I love another man]" and he roamed around in clover.

Chorus:
Bet on Stewball, my boys and you might win, you might win,
Bet on Stewball, my boys and you might win.

The horses they were all brought out with saddle, whip and bridle
The gentlemen did shout when they saw the gallant riders
Some did shout hurrah, the air was filled with curses
On the mare Griselda the sportsmen laid their purses.

Chorus:

The trumpet it did sound and they shot off like an arrow,
Old Stewball scarcely touched the ground and the goin' it was narrow.
The gray mare passed him by and the sportsmen all did holler,
"Oh the gray will win the day and Stewball he can foller."

Chorus

In the middle of the track, up spoke the noble rider,
"I fear we must fall back that gray is runnin' like a tiger."
Up spoke the noble horse, "Ride on, ride on my master!
We're only halfway 'round the course and now we'll see who's faster."

Chorus

Past the winnin' post old Stewball went so handy
And both the horse and rider called for sherry, wine, and brandy,
They drank to that gray mare, the darlin' Miss Griselda,
And all who lost their money on the sportin' plains of Kildare.

Chorus