The last three minutes of the old year and the first two of the new provide a caesura of pure sentiment in the average Scots household. When I think back I see a procession of departed relatives and rosy-cheeked First Foots - coal in hand, whisky bottle under the arm - waiting at the front door to grasp a hand and take a cup of kindness. One year, an old gentleman called Robbie Proudfoot came to the house. A recovering alcoholic from a village near Stranraer, he stood in our living room with a glass of dandelion and burdock and toasted all the handsome drinks - “the right gude-willie-waught” - of former days and we drove through the snow to a hall in Irvine. In that Drill Hall stood all the recovering alcoholics of Ayrshire, passing those dangerous hours in the company of one another, and they danced and sang in an absence of drink. Auld Lang Syne brings the colour of those nights back to life, with its precise gift for mellowing our regrets and putting out a hand to all that is human and passing.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

CHORUS
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
Chorus: For auld lang syne, etc.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fitt,
Sin auld lang syne.
Chorus: For auld lang syne, etc.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd,
Sin auld lang syne.
Chorus: For auld lang syne, etc..

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak a right gude-willie-waught,
For auld lang syne.
Chorus: For auld lang syne, etc.

Commentary © Andrew O'Hagan, 2008.
From A Night Out With Robert Burns: The Greatest Poems
Canongate, £12.99, 225p

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