I do not trust the rattlesnake.
He is not friend to me.
Just for spite my life he’ll take.
So I prefer to let him be.

My house is mine and his is his.
With death we cross the threshold.
We both shall keep what power is.
With swiftess strike and strength untold.

In his house my blood is his.
What will be the remedy?
To stay my feet from his filthy floor;
Bar and lock my purified door.

But what is this, I see brothers do?
They do not take note with fear.
But go to the place where death awaits;
Not caring what they held dear.