My God, with di pawa wey dey yor hand, make Yu distroy pipol wey dey espect dia reward from dis world. But doz wey Yu like well-well, make Yu give dem enough and dia shidren go get plenty kon die leave propaty for dia shidren-shidren.
Dem sey, “E for betta sey God kill us for Egypt, bikos wi even dey si food chop for der, but naw, E take us kom dis wildaness won kon kill us with honga!”
Make una nor sey, ‘No! E betta make wi go Egypt instead of us to stay dis land, bikos for der, wi go dey free from war and food plenty for der wey wi go chop.’
Dem go end for hell; na dia belle bi di god wey dem dey serve. Tins wey suppose make dem shame, naim dey make dem happy and na only tins for dis world dem dey tink about.