Now there once was a time when the northerners sang
of a king they had crowned: more a boy than a man,
More a pup than a wolf, with the cold of the realm in his eyes

He’d broken a vow to the lords of the Twins:
Wed a stranger, a beauty, but a promise there’d been
So the Lord Frey demanded a bridegroom [bad word] 
And the timbers groaned
River wind softly moaned,
“Oh, the King in the North doesn’t know
How a red wedding goes”

Well, the feasting was plenty and the singing in tune
And the Stark wolves, they howled ‘neath their northern moon
So loud were their cries that the closing of doors was drowned out

Lady Catelyn alone had the river’s sharp ear
Heard dancing reels turn to the Rains of Castamere
In her skin and bones growled a creature of doubt

And the timbers groaned
River wind softly moaned,
“Oh, the King in the North soon will know
How a red wedding goes”

There were arrows and daggers, and the touch of them burned;
From players to slayers in an instant were turned
And the foreigner Queen was the first to fall under the knife

With two arrows in him, the King crawled to her side
While his mother, she pleaded for the Lord to subside
But he’d taken their word, and to break it meant no right to life

And the timbers groaned
River wind softly moaned,
“Oh, the King in the North, now he knows
How a red wedding goes”

Lord Bolton approached; with a [bad word] to Robb’s heart
He gave him the Lannister Lions’ regards
And the king’s mother wept, for his last word had called her to him

There was nothing she felt cutting Lady Frey’s throat
And she felt nothing more when they slashed her own
The North will remember, she thought, and they’ll have all your skins

And the timbers groaned
Now the wolves lie below
Oh, the King in the North, if he’d known
How a red wedding goes

And the timbers groan
But the North waits; they know
That one day the blood they are owed [bad word] ‘neath their soles