But as una nor gri listin, I dey kry for sekret, bikos of una pride; I go kry well-well till I nor fit kry again, bikos dem don karry God pipol go as slave.”
I still sey, “My pipol! Make una wear sak klot and roll for groun. Make una kry well-well and mourn like sey una only pikin just die. Bikos very soon, doz wiked sojas go kom distroy all of us.”
I wish sey my head bi like well wey wota full and my eyes bi like fountain where wota for dey rush kom out, den I go kry well-well both day and nite for my pipol wey dem kill.
I don kry sotey wota nor gri kom out from my eye again; my heart don break. I don taya and e dey pain bi wen I si how dem distroy my pipol and how shidren dey faint anyhow for di town.