And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws,
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that lord of Castamere,
But now the rains weep o'er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,
and not a soul to hear.
With coats akin to golden coins,
Lions of the Rock advance.
Lies, incest, bribes and keeps,
The Queen leads a wily dance.
In the North, beyond the wall,
wights turn in their graves.
Eyes, hands, all cold blue,
black cloaks fell to undead waves.
And all was dark, and all was bleak,
nobles paid armies to form.
Kings and Queens played their Game of Thrones,
commons were caught in the storm.
Wolves have fallen, litter dispelled,
from the Wall to the Titan island.
One dead, a craven, two cubs fierce,
One a lord, the other can't stand.