Kutipan

Rain of Castamere

In a coat of gold

Or coat of red

A lion still has claw

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 hall

With no one there to hear

Yes, now the rains

Weep o’er his hall

And not a soul to hear.

 

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