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Jack Ryan, Analyst

de Ramin Djawadi

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!"

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