The Rains of Castamere


One night I hold on
You, you,
Castamere, Castamere, Castamere, Castamere.

A coat of gold or 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 he spoke
That lord of Castamere.
And now the rains weep over his hall
with no one there to hear
Yes, now the rains weep over his hall,
And not a soul to hear.