[Lyric] Old Timbrook Blues (John Byrd)

Old Timbrook was a black horse, black as any crow
Old Timbrook was a black horse, black as any crow
Had a white ring 'round his forepaw, white as any snow

Yes old Timbrook he come darting like a bullet from a gun
Old Timbrook he come darting like a bullet from a gun
And old Molly she come creeping like a criminal to be hung

Johnny Walker, Johnny Walker, Johnny Walker my dear son
Johnny Walker, Johnny Walker, Johnny Walker my dear son
Hold tight rein on Timbrook so that horse could run

Oh the cuckoo was a flying bird, hollers when he fly
Oh the cuckoo was a flying bird, hollers when he fly
But he never hollers cuckoo till the fourth of July

Oh the racetrack it was dusty and the wind was high
Oh the racetrack it was dusty and the wind was high
Well, you couldn't see old Timbrook as he come darting by

Oh the children, they did holler and the old folks squall
Oh the children, they did holler and the old folks squall
But old Timbrook he beat Molly to the hole in the wall
I love my racehorse, like to have my fun
Yes I love my racehorse, like to have my fun
Old Missus went to the racetrack and lost all her mon'