An sae the' sent thair ain follaers tae hïm alang wi some men o Herod's pairtie. “Maistèr,” the' saed, “we ken ye spake tha truith, an that ye taich fowk tha wye o God accoardin tae tha truith, wioot onie thocht o whut ither fowk thïnks o ye. Ye dïnnae mak o yin mair ner tha ither.
It's no iverie yin that says tae me, ‘Loard, Loard,’ that'll git ïntae tha Kïngdom o Heiven, but ït's onlie hïm that daes tha wull o ma Faither wha ïs ïn heiven.
“Maistèr, Moses writ doon fer iz, that ïf a man's brither dees an leas a guidwife wi nae weans, then tha brither maun merrie tha weeda an hae childèr fer hïs deid brither.
“Maistèr,” the' saed, “Moses writ doon fer iz, that ïf a man's brither dees an leas a guidwife wi nae weans, then he maun merrie tha weeda an hae childèr fer hïs deid brither.