“The night is dark and full of terrors,”
and the King’s blood has its powers -
Red Priests sure don’t make any errors
when they watch under the flames’ covers.

“What is dead may never die,
but rises again, harder and stronger!”
When one more wakes with quick breathing sigh
we know the culture will live longer.

“The one true god has seven faces”
preaches the septon with crystals in hand.
Clad in satin and myrish laces,
there is noone as wealthy in land.

The Old gods have no myrish laces,
not fires, not drownings, not nice-sounding words.
They answer if you speak to their carved faces -
to them kneel all the Northern lords.         

By Buckwheat

Game of Thrones Season 2 - Religions of Westeros

I hear a sound, a sound below the Wall
Distant sound of thunder, moving out on the snow

Blackbirds flew in and to the Master’s tower
I’ll pack my bags thinking of one of those hours with you
Waiting for you

The Old Gods it takes a man of the Night
In the kingdom of White

I long to feel some beauty in my heart
As I go searching right to the start

The road back to Ygritte was jutted out in snow
As I went looking for that stolen heart for you
Waiting for you

The Old Gods it takes a man of the Night, it takes an effort it does
The Old Gods it takes a man of the Night
It’s in the kingdom of White
Oh, in the kingdom of White

I long to feel that wince in my heart
As I went looking I couldn’t stop
Now I’m waiting for you, Ygritte only for you

Yes, it does
I know it takes a Man of the Night
In the kingdom of White

By Howling4Reed

All the faithful, all believers
all the godly men of North
pray their prayers to the Old Gods
bowing in the holy wood.

And I’m happy and I sing
this old hymn to all of them,
who do watch me through the trees
and I pray before their eyes.

Cold clear rivers, frozen north wind,
yellow stars up in the sky —
I see my gods in all nature
and it helps me through my life.

And I’m happy and I sing
this old hymn to all of them,
who do watch me through the trees
and I pray before their eyes.

by Buckwheat

If the Old Gods had names, what would they be?
And would you call them to their face?
If you were faced with them
In all their glory
What would you ask if you had just one question?

And yeah, yeah, Faith is great
Yeah, yeah, Faith is good
Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah

What if the Gods were amongst us?
Just some random guys like us?
Not some memories cloaked in dust
Trying to protect their home?

If Gods had faces, what would they look like?
Like the ones in the trees?
Do they approve that?
And then would you believe
in things like heavens and in heart trees and hells
and all those stories

Trying to protect their tree homes
Surviving in the North alone
Forgotten under the Iron Throne
Their memory turning into stone

Just trying protect their old homes
Red as blood and white as bone
Left up to stand watch all alone
Just trying to protect their old homes
Forgotten under the Iron Throne
Their memory turning into stone

by Lady of Oldcastle (to Joan Osborne’s What if God was one of us?)