Psalms 92

92 ¹ E good make we give thanks to our Papa, make we sing praises to your name, Most High, ² make we talk your Covenant love wey no dey change for morning, and your faithful heart troway di nights, ³ for di lute wey get ten strings and for di harp, with di sweet sound of di lyre. ⁴ Because you don make my heart glad, our Papa, with your work; for di work wey your hand do, I dey sing for joy. ⁵ How your work take big reach, our Papa! Your thoughts deep well well! ⁶ Di man wey no get sense no dey know, and di foolish person no dey understand dis one:

⁷ Even as di wicked people dey grow like grass and all di people wey dey do evil dey flourish, dem go perish forever. ⁸ But you, our Papa, dey for up forever. ⁹ See am, your enemies, our Papa — see am, your enemies go perish; all di people wey dey do evil go scatter. ¹⁰ But you don raise my horn high like wild ox; you don pour fresh oil on top my head. ¹¹ My eyes don look my enemies wey dey watch me; my ears don hear di doom of di wicked people wey rise against me. ¹² Di correct-and-holy people dey flourish like palm tree; dem dey grow like cedar for Lebanon. ¹³ Dem plant dem for inside di house of our Papa, dem dey flourish for di courts of our Papa. ¹⁴ Even wen dem don old, dem still dey bear fruit; dem dey fresh and green, ¹⁵ make dem show sey our Papa dey straight; na im be my rock, and no bad-and-crooked way dey inside am.