Godly Ballants V: The Coorse Cratur

The Coorse Cratur                                           The Wicked Man
                                                                           (cratur: one in miserable circumstances) 

Try your hand at translation...

The Lord gaed wi' a crood o' men
   Throu Jericho the bonny;
'Twas ill the Son o' Man to ken
   Mang sons o' men sae mony:

The wee bit son o' man Zacchay
   To see the Maister seekit;
He speilt a fig-tree, bauld an' shy,
   An' sae his shortness ekit.

But as he thoucht to see his back,
   Roun turnt the haill face til 'im,
Up luikit straucht, an' til 'im spak--
   His hert gaed like to kill 'im.

"Come doun, Zacchay; bestir yersel;
   This nicht I want a lodgin."
Like a ripe aipple 'maist he fell,
   Nor needit ony nudgin.

But up amang the unco guid
   There rase a murmurin won'er:
"This is a deemis want o' heed,
   The man's a special sinner!"

Up spak Zacchay, his hert ableeze:
   "Half mine, the puir, Lord, hae it;
Gien oucht I've taen by ony lees,
   Fourfauld again I pay it!"

Then Jesus said, "This is a man!
   His hoose I'm here to save it;
He's ane o' Abraham's ain clan,
   An' siclike has behavit!

I cam the lost to seek an' win."--
   Zacchay was ane he wantit:
To ony man that left his sin
   His grace he never scantit.