Make wetin I dey tish una, fall on-top una like rain; make wetin I dey tok bi like dew for morning. Make my words fall like rain on-top grass and make e bi like shawa on-top plant wey just dey grow.
So, I take di book from di angel hand kon chop am. True-true wen I dey chop am, e sweet like honey for my mout, but wen I swallow am, e kon bitter for my belle.