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!"