And who are you, the proud lord says
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