Tae tha yin he gien five baags o siller, tae anither twa baags, an tae anither jist tha yin baag, accoardin tae whut he knowed the' cud dae wi ït. Then aff he went on hïs thrip.
Tha man that haed bin gien tha five baags cum forrit, an brocht wi hïm tha ither five. ‘Maistèr,’ he saed, ‘ye hannit ower five baags tae me. Luk, A hae got five mair fer ye.’
Then alang cum tha man that wus gien tha yin baag o siller. ‘Maistèr,’ he saed, ‘A kent ye wur a haird man; ye hairvest whar ye hinnae plantit an ye gether whar ye hinnae sowed.
Or whut aboot tha echteen that deed ïn Siloam whaniver tha tooer cum doon on tap o thaim? Dae ye jalouse that thair wrangdaeins wus waur ner aa tha ither yins ïn Jerusalem?
An tae anither he saed, ‘An whut dae ye owe?’ ‘A hunnèr baags o wheat,’ saed he. Sae tha owerseer saed tae hïm, ‘Luk here, tak yer bïll an pit doon echtie baags!’