Bows and arrows are lurking for traveling merchants,
They are always suited to death.
Waiting for the cart to creak
Horse hooves scratching on the country road,
Keep hiding to the last,
Before the dealer plagued by worries.
But she doesn't care
Because if you drag them to court,
Are they doomed to die?
There is no one who forgives them.
Who does not give them what they want,
Or even dares to defend himself
He looks grim reaper in the face,
Especially those, he doesn't forget.
So they are always waiting for new prey
And plunder, the acting people.
The Grim Reaper does not bring them from the deathbed,
At most from the prison chain
Or worse if it destroys
Is it the blade that she judges?