¹ Now let me sing of my friend,
    my beloved’s song about his vineyard.
My friend had a vineyard
    on a fertile hillside;
² He spaded it, cleared it of stones,
    and planted the choicest vines;
Within it he built a watchtower,
    and hewed out a wine press.
Then he waited for the crop of grapes,
    but it yielded rotten grapes.^(A)
3 Now, inhabitants of Jerusalem, people of Judah,
    judge between me and my vineyard:
⁴ What more could be done for my vineyard
    that I did not do?^(B)
Why, when I waited for the crop of grapes,
    did it yield rotten grapes?
⁵ Now, I will let you know
    what I am going to do to my vineyard:
Take away its hedge, give it to grazing,
    break through its wall, let it be trampled!^[b]
6 Yes, I will make it a ruin:
    it shall not be pruned or hoed,
    but will be overgrown with thorns and briers;
I will command the clouds
    not to rain upon it.
⁷ The vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel,
    the people of Judah, his cherished plant;
He waited for judgment, but see, bloodshed!
    for justice, but hark, the outcry!^[c]

²¹ But I had planted you as a choice vine,
    all pedigreed stock;
How could you turn out so obnoxious to me,
    a spurious vine?^(A)