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lyrics
OH wha hasna heard 0’ the artist ca’ed Blain, For mony a portrait in Coldstream he’s taen; Be they young, be they auld, be they gentle or semple, He hurries them afi' without wrinkle or pimple.
And yet he’s aye true, and never beguiles, For the auld hae their frowns and the young has their smiles ; And some even think that he deals wi’ Auld Nicky, He speaks aye so cunning, so pithy, and tricky.
The auld wives they run wi’ braids i’ their hair, And the lasses wi’ breaches and breastknots are there, And the gentry on horseback wait their turn at the door, For he maks nae distinction ’tween wealthy and poor.
Ane seated before him he looks for a wee, Her beauty, her smiles, and her features to see, Sync he. cunningly shuts himsel’ up i’ the dark, Sae as name may disclose his magical wark.
An” what he does there nae body can tell, Gif he deals wi‘ the Devil, he kens best himsel’; But ae thing is true, and nae ane dare doubt it, That, for taking a likeness, he’s nae lang about it.
His wide-spreading fame a’ the country alarms, And the wabsters 0’ Hawick hae flown to their armsf‘ And a strong opposition they swear to maintain ’Gainst the king 0’ the artists, our ain Jamie Blain.
But, ye knights of the shuttle, I bid you beware, Lest our lang-headed callant for you lay a snare : He’ll harass you in front, an’ assail you behind, And ye’ll hae to gie up what ye canna defend.
Then success to you, Jamie, an’ lang may ye shine, And lang may the Muses around you entwine ; May joy and contentment be yours while on earth, And may peace seal your eyes in the moments of death.
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