Psalms 142

142 ¹ With my voice I dey cry out to my Papa; with my voice I dey beg am for mercy. ^a a v1 Maskil na song wey dey make person think deep—psalm wey dem write make person ponder am, no be just to sing am. ² I dey pour out my complain before am; before am I dey talk my trouble. ³ Wen my spirit weak inside me, na you sabi my way. For di road wey I dey waka, dem don hide trap for me. ⁴ Look my right hand side and see — nobody dey wey know me; no place to hide remain for me; nobody dey care about my life. ⁵ I dey cry to you, my Papa; I talk say, “Na you be my place to hide, my portion for di land of di living.” ⁶ Hear my cry, because dem don bring me very low. Rescue me from dem wey dey pursue me, because dem too strong pass me. ⁷ Bring my soul comot from prison, so I fit give thanks to your name. Di correct-and-holy people go gather round me, because you go do me well well.