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Half the boys you've seen training will die north of the Wall.
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Might be a wilding's axe that gets them,
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might be sickness,
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might just be the cold.
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They die in pain.
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And they do it, so plump little lords like you
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can enjoy their summer afternoons in peace and comfort.
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Do you think I'm plump?
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Listen, Benjen... may I call you Benjen?
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Call me what you like.
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I'm not sure what I've done to offend you.
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I have great admiration for the Night's Watch.