Psalms 141

141 ¹ My Papa, I dey call you; come quick-quick come meet me. Hear my voice wen I dey cry give you.

² Make my prayer rise reach your front like incense, di way I lift my hand, make e be like di evening offering.

³ My Papa, put guard for my mouth; watch di door of my lips well well. ⁴ No make my heart turn to any evil, make I no join do wicked things with dem wey dey do bad; and no make I chop dia sweet food.

⁵ Make di correct-and-holy person beat me—na kindness be dat; make e correct me—na oil for my head; my head no go refuse am. But my prayer dey always stand against di things wey wicked people dey do.

⁶ Wen dem throway dia rulers comot from di rocky cliff, den di people go hear my words, becos dem sweet. ⁷ Just as person dey plow and break di ground open, na so our bone dem scatter for di mouth of grave.

⁸ But my eye fix for you, my Papa wey be Oga ova all; na inside you I dey hide—no leave me without protection. ⁹ Keep me away from di trap wey dem set for me, from di net of dem wey dey do bad. ¹⁰ Make di wicked people fall inside dia own net, while na me one go pass go dey safe.