Without having any chief or officer or ruler,
it prepares its food in summer, and gathers its sustenance in harvest.
How long will you lie there, O lazybones? When will you rise from your sleep?
A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest,
and poverty will come upon you like a robber, and want, like an armed warrior.
A scoundrel and a villain goes around with crooked speech,
winking the eyes, shuffling the feet, pointing the fingers,
with perverted mind devising evil, continually sowing discord;
on such a one calamity will descend suddenly; in a moment, damage beyond repair.
There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him:
haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood,