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 [bad word] 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.

My coat of gold shall rise before
those barren lands of yours.
No red cloth will be left to spear
inside your Castamere.
Your coat of red will bow once more
and red will be with gore,
for lions are no cats my lord
and you shall meet my sword!

And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
to lord of Castamere,
And 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.