1 My son! to my wisdom give attention, To mine understanding incline thine ear,
2 To observe thoughtfulness, And knowledge do thy lips keep.
3 For the lips of a strange woman drop honey, And smoother than oil [is] her mouth,
4 And her latter end [is] bitter as wormwood, Sharp as a sword [with] mouths.
5 Her feet are going down to death, Sheol do her steps take hold of.