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.
