O sobie: And who are you, the Night King said, that I must bow so low? Only a Snow of a different coat, that's all the truth I know. In a coat of brown or a coat of black, a direwolf still has claws, And mine are long and sharp, my king, as long and sharp as sword. And so they spoke, and so they spoke, those Others from the North, But now the rains weep o'er The Wall, with no one there to hear. Yes now the rains weep o'er The Wall, and not a dead to hear.

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