- E good to praise Baba-God and compose music for your name, Oh Most High,
- to yarn about your love for morning and your faithfulness for night,
- to di music of di lyre wey get ten-string and di music of di harp.
- Your work dey make me happy, Oh Baba-God; I dey sing wit joy becos of your
handwork.
- See as your work dey so great, Oh Baba-God. See as your reason big reach!
- Man wey no get sense no fit know, dondi no understand,
- sey even though badbelle grow like gras and wicked pipo dey shine, dem go
pkeme forever.
- But you, Oh Baba-God, you get levels forever.
- Surely your enemies, Oh Baba-God, your enemies go surely pkeme ; pipo wey
dey do evil go scata.
- You don give my horn levels like wild malu. Dem don pour beta ororo for my
head.
- My eyes don see as my enemies take fall; my ears don hear about my wicked
enemies take pkeme.
- Di righteous pipo go grow fine like palm tree, dem go grow like cedars of
Lebanon;
- wey dem plant for inside Baba-God house, dem go flourish inside Baba-God
crib.
- Dem go still produce fruit for old age, dem go dey fresh and green,
- dem go dey sey, “Baba-God way straight; nahin be my rock and wickedness no
dey inside am.”
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