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"And who are you", the proud lord said, "that I must bow so low?
Only a cat in a different coat. That's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold and a coat of red the 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 and no one there to hear.
Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall with not a soul to hear.
"And who are you", the proud lord said, "that I should bow so low?
Only a tyke with a filthy coat, that's all the truth I know.
In a coat of grey and a coat of white the direwolf's lost his claws.
But mine are long and sharp, my lord, sharper still than yours."
And so he spoke, and so he spoke, the slayer of Castamere.
But soon the wind will howl through his hall, for all the realm to hear.
Yes, soon the wind will howl through his hall,
for all the realm -
- to hear.