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.
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.
С чего бы мне, — сказал тот лорд, — Склоняться пред тобой? На стяге твоем такой же кот, Лишь только цвет другой. Хоть алый лев, хоть лев златой, — Важней длина когтей. Не верю я, что коготь твой Острее и прочней. Так он сказал, так он сказал, Из Кастамере лорд. С тех пор лишь дождь в пустынный зал По лорду слёзы льёт.