Di happiness and joy wey dey Moab land, don vanish. I don make dia wine stop to flow from di winepress. Nobody dey to make wine for dem and una nor go hear happiness nois from der again.
Una nor go get food to chop and ten wimen go dey bake all dia bread wey dem get for only one oven. Dem go share am and afta una don chop finish, una go still dey hongry.
“ ‘If anybody dedikate one part of en field to God, di priest go fix di prize akordin to di nomba of seed wey dem go fit plant and e go bi ten silva for evry twenty kilogram for barley.
Una plant many korn, but wetin una harvest, small. Una get food to chop, but e nor dey beleful una. Una get wine to drink, but e nor dey rish una! Even wen una wear many klot, e nor dey make una warm and pipol wey dey work, dia salari nor dey rish dem spend.
Dat time, una go where dem pak korn full, dey tink sey una go si twenty sak, but na only ten una si. Una go draw fifty gallon for wine, but na only twenty una get.