An ïf he wull no lïsten tae thaim, tell ït tae tha kirk; an ïf he wull no lïsten tae tha kirk ether, dail wi hïm tha wye ye wud dae wi a tex man, or tha haithen.
Whan Jesus wus trevelin on frae thair, he saa a tex man bi tha name o Mattha sïttin ïn hïs hut. “Follae me,” he toul hïm, an Mattha ris up an follaed hïm.
Tha Pharisee ris tae hïs feet, an prayed tae hissel: ‘O God, A thenk ye that A'm no laik ither fowk, ner fer that mettèr laik thon tex boy ower thonner! A dïnnae chait fowk, A dae naethin wrang, an A keep tae me ain wife. A fast twice ïn tha week, an A gie a tenth o aa A hae.’
But tha tex man stud awa bak, an wudnae as much as lïft hïs een tae heiven, but he bate hïs breesht ïn sorra, an saed, ‘O God, hae mercie on me, fer A'm naethin but a sïnner!’
Jesus answert, “Dae ye no ken me Phïlip, tha mair A hae bin amang yis aa thïs time? Oniebodie lukkin at me haes saen tha Faither. Sae hoo can ye say, ‘Show iz tha Faither’?