"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
And now the rains weep o'er his halls
And no one left to hear
Yes, now, the rains weep o'er his halls
And not, a soul to hear