I eighty year ol now, you know. I no can tell if someting stay good o bad. I no can taste wat I eat o drink. I no can hear da voices from da guys an wahines wen dey sing. How come I goin make mo work fo you, my boss da king, aah?
Jeremiah make up sad kine songs fo no foget Josiah, an still yet today all da guys an wahines dat sing no foget Josiah wit dose sad kine songs. Dey stay make um da funeral songs fo da Israel peopo, an write down how fo sing dose sad kine songs.
I pile up plenny silva an gold stuffs fo me, an I get da rich kine stuffs from odda kings an odda districks. I get guys an wahines fo sing, an plenny wahines fo come my odda wifes—enuff fo make one guy feel real good inside.