amson of the tribe of Dan,
This wisdom I bestow
You are about to saunter forth
Among a deadly foe.
Although the Philistines are cruel
And shrewd as serpents' spawn,
The one who schemes to take you down
Comes wrapped in a sarong.
With pleading eyes and painted lips
She'll charm your very soul
And fill your nostrils with her scent
Until you lose control.
Don't let the power of your faith
Grow weak through carnal bliss
Or let the secret of your strength
Be loosened by her kiss.
Don't be deceived by clever wiles
Or swayed by hollow tears,
Lest she produce behind her back
A pair of cutting shears.
The choice is up to you, my son,
When lured to this impasse
Will you act like a godly man
Or jawbone of an ass?