Job.
6.
Den Job ansa: 
“If dem put my trobol and pains for skale, 
dem go heavy pass san wey dey for sea, bikos dem dey heavy and na dis make knee dey tok like dis. 
God arrow don enter my body and dia poizin dey flow inside my spirit. God don make mi dey fear. 
Donkey dey fear wen e dey chop grass? Abi melu dey kwayet wen e dey near food? 
But who fit chop food wey nor get salt or taste? Or wish kind taste dey for di white part for egg? 
I nor fit tosh dat kind food, bikos e dey make mi sick. 
“Why God nor gri give mi wetin I ask for? Why E nor ansa my prayer? 
I wish sey God go distroy mi! I wish sey E go just kill mi with en hand. 
Aldo I get mind with dis sey: Even with all di pains wey I get, I neva ever go against God word. 
Wish kind pawa I get to still dey alive? Why I still dey live wen I nor get hope? 
Na stone dem take make my strent? Abi my body na bronze? 
I nor get strent to take help mysef and all my pawa don komot from my body. 
“Pesin wey dey face dis kind trobol, e suppose get betta friends; weda e forget God or not. 
But my friends, una don show sey una bi like wota wey dry bikos rain nor fall! 
Di wota dark bikos ice-blok and snow don kover dem. 
But wen hot weda kom, di wota go disappear. Wons heat dey, di wota go vanish from where dem dey. 
Animals wey dey pul karavan waka lost, bikos dem dey find wota and dem waka die for dry land. 
Animals wey dey pul karavan wey kom from Sheba and Tema nor find dem, 
but all dia hope die for dry river. 
To misef, una bi like dat wota; una si fear kon bigin shake. 
“I don ever sey, ‘Make una give mi sometin, or make una give money to pesin for mi? 
Or make una save mi from my enemy pawa and from wiked pipol?’ 
“Okay! Make una tish mi; make una tell mi my fault and I go kwayet listin to una. 
True word dey pain o-o! But wetin yu dey tok nor make sense. 
My own word wey bi true nor dey good, but na di yuzles words yu like. 
Yu go gambol for di pipol wey nor get papa again. Bikos of money, yu go sell yor friends wey like yu well-well. 
Make yu look mi for face, I nor go lie give yu. 
Yu don try well-well, stop to tink bad tins Nor kondemn mi again, bikos I dey rite. 
Yu feel sey I dey lie? Yu feel sey I nor know rite from wrong? 
