hands of gold

he rode through the streets of the city

down from his hill on high

o'er the winds and the steppes and the cobble

he rode to a woman's side

for she was his secret treasure

she was his shame and his bliss

and a chain and a keep are nothing

compared to a woman's kiss

for hands of gold are always cold

but a woman's hands are warm

for hands of gold are always cold

but a woman's hands are warm

and there he stood with sword in hand

the last of darry's ten

and red the grass beneath his feet

and red his banner's bright

and red the glow of the setting sun that bathe him in its light

come one