And who are you, the proud lord said,
|
that I must bow so low?
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Only a cat of a different coat,
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That¡¯s all the truth I know.
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In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
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A lion still has claws,
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And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
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As long and sharp as yours.
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And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
|
That lord of Castamere,
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But now the rains weep o¡¯er his hall,
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With no one there to hear.
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Yes now the rains weep o¡¯er his hall,
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And not a soul to hear.
|
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.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Rains of Castamere
|
| The National |
