“ ‘ “Bikos of dis, I go skata yor throne kon kill all yor sons and shidren-shidren; both di ones wey don old and di yong ones. I go finish yor family; dem go swip dem komot like dirty.
Den, put dem under sun, moon and stars. Bikos dis na di tins wey dem love; tins wey dem dey woship, serve and koll make e kom guide dem. Nobody go gada dis pipol bones go beri again; so dem go bi like manure wey dem pour for groun.
I go ponish una. I go bring distroshon to una; diziz wey dem nor go fit cure and fever wey go make una blind, naim I go take waste una life. Una go plant una seed, but e nor go produce good food for una, bikos una enemies go win una kon chop wetin una plant.