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.