For hands of gold are always cold
But a woman's hands are warm
He rode through the streets of the city
Down from his hill on high
O'er the winds and the steps and the cobbles
He rode to a woman's sigh
For she was his secrte 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
still in a way in the darkness
through the yards walk up and down
no five kings no war no last brother
with her scares were gone
For she was his greatest pleasure
She was his shame and his pride
And a view from a tower is nothing
Compared to a woman’s eyes
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