Friday, December 31 2010
Happy Hogmanay!
That clock really knows how to party
Auld Lang Syne (in pentatonic Scottish folk melody)
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pou'd the gowans fine;
we've wander'd mony a weary foot
Sin' auld lang syne
We two hae paidled i' the burn,
Frae mornin' sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin' auld lang syne
And here's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
--Robert Burns
1788
When I was a kid, I wondered what the heck that Scottish gibberish meant. I was comfortable listening to the mellow, syrupy sound of Guy Lombardo (how many of you know he was Canadian?) but Guy didn't use the words. For any who have trouble with the dialect, here we have it:
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old times passed?
- CHORUS:
- For old times passed, my dear,
for old times passed,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for old times passed.
And surely you’ll buy your pint cup !
and surely I’ll buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for old times passed.
- CHORUS
We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine ;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
since old times passed.
- CHORUS
We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dinner time;
But seas between us broad have roared
since old times passed.
- CHORUS
And there’s a hand my trusty friend !
And give us a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for old time's passed.
CHORUS
Here's wishing you all a Happy New Year, may it be safe, prosperous, and rewarding to you and all those you hold dear.
Talk, wretched crustacean! Tell us of your troop movements, or I shall fetch butter!
My own New Year's will be like the last 28: my wife and I will eat lobsters and drink a special bottle of Champagne--or two. This year's primary targets are Pol Roger (my mid-price favorite) and a lovely bottle of Rose Cremant d'Alsace, sparkly-biscuity and crisp, the both of them. We'll dance at midnight in the living room (a tango--we took lessons) and at midnight we'll shout and toast and resolve to be the people we want to be in the coming year.
Don't mind the wild staring eyes. It's pressure from my cold-shocked reproductive equipment climbing into my throat
And then, New Year's morn, it's time for a swim. It's a tradition I truly enjoy, having chronicled it in 2010, 2009, and 2008, and I've only missed one Polar Bear of the last 9 years. The great thing about it is that once you've leapt into water just slightly above the freezing point and full of rocks and costumed loonies, hardly anything the coming year can throw at you will seem so bad.
And then it will be time for a hot tub, a nap and a pretty serious luncheon (usually lobster omelets) and a day spent contemplating the coming year. It's going to be a busy one, filled with challenges, so it should keep me on my toes. First thing, I've got to do my 2010 roundup blog. Woot!
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