Job.
17.
“My spirit don weak well-well and my life go end just naw. Na grave dey wait mi naw. 
Na pipol wey dey laf mi dey round mi; e dey pain mi as I dey look how dem dey wiked mi. 
God, make Yu show sey I dey innocent, bikos nobody gri bilive or fight for mi. 
Yu don klose dia mind, dem nor go fit undastand anytin, but make Yu nor let dem win mi. 
Pesin wey sell en friend bikos of money, na en shidren go sofa am. 
Naw, God don make pipol dey laf mi; dem dey kom spit for my face. 
My eyes don swell-up bikos of kry; my body don tin like broom. 
Good pipol dey shok wen dem si mi. Doz wey dey innocent go tok against doz wey nor dey fear God. 
But doz wey get good heart, dey do wetin dey rite and di ones wey get klean hand, dey strong evriday. 
“But if all of dem kom follow mi stand, I nor go even si one wey wise. 
My plans don fail; my days go soon end and I nor get hope again. 
But my friends don turn nite to day; dem sey lite don near, but na darkness I dey si. 
My only hope na where dead body dey, where I go for go sleep for darkness. 
If I sey, ‘Grave na my papa’ and di worm wey dey chop mi, ‘Na my mama and sistas,’ 
any hope go still dey for mi? Who dey bilive sey I still get hope? 
No, my hope go follow mi wen I dey go where dead body dey? Wi go-go grave togeda?” 
