Plenty of little men tried to put their swords through my heart and there's plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods
They told me you were mean. Were you born mean or you just hate wildlings
I have a jug of sour goat's milk stronger than any of that grape water you southern twats
The day I ask my people to fight with the crows is the day my people cut my guts from my belly and make me eat them