When I was on horseback, wasn’t I pretty When I was on horseback, wasn’t I brave Wasn’t I pretty when I rode through Cork City And met with my downfall on the fourteenth of May. There’s four white horses with black plumes and roses Here’s four white horses to walk by my side There’s four white horses to carry my coffin With birds softly singing as we go along. Now beat the drum slowly and play the pipes lowly Play up the dead-march as we go along Bring me to Tipperary and lay me down easy I am a young soldier that never done wrong.