sayin tae thaim, “Awa ïntae thon clachan fornent iz. Whan yis git thair, ye'll fin a cowlt tyed up, that naebodie haes iver sut on. Lowse ïts raip, an brïng ït til me.
An whaniver he wus cumin nearhan tha pad doon frae tha Moont o Olives, hïs follaers stairtit shoutin oot wi joy tha hale lock o thaim, praisin God fer aa tha mïracles the' haed saen, an cryin oot,