Bikos of dis, God dey ready to pity for en pipol; E sidan for en throne and E dey ready to forgive una. True-true, God dey good and evribody wey get faith and dey wait am, go happy well-well.
I don already know how I go take ponish dem and dem don rite di way dem go take die for groun. I nor go look wetin dem don do kon trowey face, but I go pay dem back
I hear kry, like woman wey won born; shaut like woman wey dey born en first pikin. Jerusalem pipol dey find as dem go take breath and naw, dem dey kry sey, “Make una help us! Bikos na die wi dey so o-o!”
Bikos God nor fit bear all di yeye tins wey una dey do, na dis make am turn una land to where pipol dey curse. E don skata am and pipol nor dey stay der again.