Hands of Gold

He rode through the streets of the city Down from his hill on high O' er the winds and the steps and the cobble He rode to woman's sigh 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 banners bright And red the glow of setting sun That bathed him in its light Come on, come on the great lord called My sword is hungry still And with a cry of savage rage They swarmed across the rill And with a cry of savage rage They swarmed across the rill He rode through the streets of the city Down from his hill on high O' er the winds and the steps and the cobble He rode to woman's sigh 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 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