An seein a fïg tree bi tha róad, he gaed up tae ït but fun naethin on ït apairt frae leafs. Then he saed tae ït, “May ye niver bair fruit agane!” An at yinst tha tree wuthert up.
He haes iverie brench cut aff o me that haes gien nae fruit. An iverie brench that daes gie fruit he faces bak a weethin sae that ït fruits aa tha mair.
If a bodie daesnae bide ïn me, he ïs laik a brench that ïs redd oot an wuthers up an dees; sitch brenches ïs gethert up an coupt ïntae tha fire an brunt.