Samson 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?