Whut mair can tha follaer ax than tae be laik hïs taicher, or tha sarvint tae be laik hïs maistèr? Gin the' hae caad tha heid o tha hoose Beelzebul, weel, whut wull the' no caa aa tha yins o hïs hoosehold!
Fer he wull be ootstannin ïn tha sicht o tha Loard. He's no tae tak wine or onie ither kine o strang drïnk, an he'll be fu o tha Halie Spïrit richt frae hïs mither's wame.
The' ir laik weans sïttin doon at tha mairket, caain oot tae yin anither, ‘We played tha whustle fer ye, an ye wudnae daunce. We sung a dirge tae ye, an ye wudnae greet.’
But tha Sinn o Man cum aitin an drïnkin, an ye say, ‘Wud ye luk at hïm, he's a glutton, an he's tarrible fand o tha drïnk, sae he ïs - tha freen o tex men an wrangdaers!’
Wi that tha Jews caad oot, “Noo we ken fer shair that thair's a divil ïn ye! Abraham deed an tha proaphits deed as weel. Yit you'r tellin iz that ïf oniebodie houls tae yer wurd, he'll niver dee!