Di pipol bi like trees branches wey don dry and skata for groun; wey wimen dey gada take do firewood. So, bikos di pipol nor undastand anytin, God wey kreate dem nor go sorry or pity for dem.
Di main road dey empty, bikos nobody dey travel again. Kontries dey break di agriment wey dem make with each oda and pipol nor dey respet one anoda again.
But God sey, “My pipol foolish well-well, dem nor know mi at-all. Dem bi shidren wey nor get sense and dem nor dey kwik undastand anytin. Na only bad-bad tins dem sabi do.”