Oh rattlesnake slithering through the grass, what sets the warning off making you buzz? Why do you coil and strike so fast and angry? Do your fangs sinking into flesh give you pleasure? When you slide from your skin, does it itch and burn? Is that why you get so grumpy?
Are you instinct, simple and pure, or does evil lurk, base and allure?
Stay back, snake! For I am armed. Many of your kind have met their demise near my barn, heads cut off and deadly fangs buried in the earth from where you came. Your row of rattles all in a pile, make a good sound separate from your slithering mass.