Mad mother Barrayar, child-devouring
Ravenous planet of a billion deaths
Tiny frail fetus, injured and cowering
Child of mine, they won't bury you yet

Raised to the manner
Born to the Vor
Bred for soldier in battle and war
And we fight for the future 'gainst the way things are
Thirty long winters on Barrayar

Aral Vorkosigan dreams of a better world
Favors his father and he loves his land
Holds the hand of his orphaned Emperor
He knows no one 'll ever understand

He was
Raised to the manner...
And Beta's distant deserts
Seem to vanish in the glare
Countess, wife, and mother
Of his crippled heir
We don't have a prayer...

Dendarii hillmen hard as the stubborn rock
Woman comes weeping out of Silvy Vale
Formed wrong, cut 'em out, born with the cat's mouth
Lord over these folk can't afford to fail

When you're
Raised to the manner...

Maybe our Miles be a planet's champion
God will never set a challenge too high
Straighten his crooked back, won't say 'can't be done'
Climb that mountain till he cracks the sky

He was
Raised to the manner
Born to the Vor
Bred for soldier in battle and war
And we fight for the future 'gainst the way things are
Thirty long winters on Barrayar
Thirty long winters on Barrayar
Thirty long winters on Barrayar

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