The 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!“