Woe to you who get up early in the morning to go on long drinking bouts that last till late at night—woe to you drunken bums.

Woe to Jerusalem, the city of David. Year after year you make your many offerings,

Woe to my rebellious children, says the Lord; you ask advice from everyone but me and decide to do what I don’t want you to do. You yoke yourselves with unbelievers, thus piling up your sins.

Woe to you, Assyrians, who have destroyed everything around you but have never felt destruction for yourselves. You expect others to respect their promises to you, while you betray them! Now you, too, will be betrayed and destroyed.

Woe to the man who fights with his Creator. Does the pot argue with its maker? Does the clay dispute with him who forms it, saying, “Stop, you’re doing it wrong!” or the pot exclaim, “How clumsy can you be!”?

Woe to the baby just being born who squalls to his father and mother, “Why have you produced me? Can’t you do anything right at all?”