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The Bear and the Maiden Fair
A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair.
Oh, come, they said, oh come to the fair!
The fair? said he, but I’m a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair!
And down the road from here to there.
From here! To there! Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear!
Danced and spun, all the way to the fair! The fair! The fair!
Oh, sweet she was, and pure, and fair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
Her hair! Her hair! The maid with honey in her hair!
Smelled the scent on the summer air.
The bear! The bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair.
He smelled the scent on the summer air!
He sniffed and roared and smelled it there! Honey on the summer air!
Oh, I’m a maid, and I’m pure and fair!
I’ll never dance with a hairy bear!
A bear! A bear! I’ll never dance with a hairy bear!
Lifted her high into the air! The bear! The bear!
I called for a knight, but you’re a bear!
A bear! A bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair!
She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,
But he licked the honey from her hair.
Her hair! Her hair! He licked the honey from her hair!
Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!
My bear! she sang. My bear so fair!
And off they went, from here to there,
The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.
Dornishman's Wife
The Dornishman’s wife was as fair as the sun,
And her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Dornishman’s blade was made of black steel,
And its kiss was a terrible thing.
The Dornishman’s wife would sing as she bathed,
In a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Dornishman’s blade had a song of its own,
And a bite sharp and cold as a leech.
As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,
And the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,
And he smiled and he laughed and he sung,
Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,
The Dornishman’s taken my life,
But what does it matter, for all men must die,
And I’ve tasted the Dornishman’s wife!
The Rains of Castamere
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.
The Last of the Giants
Oh, I am the last of the giants,
My people are gone from the earth.
The last of the great mountain giants,
Who ruled all the world at my birth.
Oh, the smallfolk have stolen my forests,
They’ve stolen my rivers and hills.
And they’ve built a great wall through my valleys,
And fished all the fish from my rills.
In stone halls they burn their great fires,
In stone halls they forge their sharp spears.
Whilst I walk alone in the mountains,
With no true companion but tears.
They hunt me with dogs in the daylight,
They hunt me with torches by night.
For these men who are small can never stand tall,
Whilst giants still walk in the light.
Oh, I am the last of the giants,
So learn well the words of my song.
For when I am gone the singing will fade,
And the silence shall last long and long.
The Song of the Seven
The Father’s face is stern and strong,
He sits and judges right from wrong.
He weighs our lives, the short and long,
And loves the little children.
The Mother gives the gift of life,
And watches over every wife.
Her gentle smile ends all strife,
And she loves her little children.
The Warrior stands before the foe,
Protecting us where e’er we go.
With sword and shield and spear and bow,
He guards the little children.
The Crone is very wise and old,
And sees our fates as they unfold.
She lifts her lamp of shining gold,
To lead the little children.
The Smith, he labors day and night,
To put the world of men to right.
With hammer, plow, and fire bright,
He builds for little children.
The Maiden dances through the sky,
She lives in every lover’s sigh,
Her smiles teach the birds to fly,
And give dreams to little children.
The Seven Gods who made us all,
Are listening if we should call.
So close your eyes, you shall not fall,
They see you, little children,
Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,
They see you, little children.