“I bin won gada my pipol, just as farmers dey gada wetin e harvest, but dem bi like vine wey nor get grape or dry fig tree wey nor get fig. Bikos of dis, I go let strenjas take dia land.”
I go remove di strong sojas wey kom from nort kon drive dem enter desert. I go drive dia leaders enter Dead Sea and doz sojas wey dey lead dem, I go drive dem enter Mediterranean Sea. Dia dead body go smell well-well. I go distroy dem, bikos of all wetin dem do una.
“I send hot breeze kon dry all wetin una plant. Ant chop all wetin una plant for una vineyard, even una fig and olive tree too. Yet una nor still gri turn kom meet mi.” Na Oga God dey tok so.
Yes, I don sey rain nor go fall for una land, hills, farm, vineyard, olive trees and for evritin wey di groun dey produce for una and una animals. I go skata evritin wey una dey work hard to get.”
Nobody go wahala dem wen dem dey plant dia seed. Dia vine go get many fruits; di groun go produce food and rain go always dey fall for dem. I go give all dis blessings to my pipol wey remain.