Auld Lang Syne

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-stoup!
and surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak' a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

We twa hae run about the braes,
and pou’d the gowans fine;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
sin' auld lang syne.

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.

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.

Nollaig Shona Dhuit

The Yuil E’en

T’wis the Yuil e’en, whan aw throu the hoose
Nae a beastie wis steerie, nae e’en a moose.
The hose war hing bi the lum wi care,
I’ howps ‘at St Nicholas suin wad bi thare.

The weans war nestled aw cosh i’ thair beids,
While veesions of succar-ploums dance i’ thair heids.
An hen in her curtch, an ah in ma cadie,
Haed juist sattkelt doun for a lang winter’s dover.
Whan oot on the green thare arose sic a brattle,
Ah breesit frae the beid tae see whit wis the maiter.

Awa tae the windae ah flew like a glent,
Rive appen the bairges an thraw up the chess.
The muin on the breest o the new-fawen snaw
Gae the lustre o twaloors tae objects ablo.

Whan, whit tae ma wunnert een shoud compear,
But a wee sleigh, an eicht wee reindeer.
Wi a wee auld driver, sae birkie an swipper,
Ah kent in a maument it must be St Nick.

Mair swith than eagles his courseirs thay cam,
An he whistled, an shootit, an cawed thaim by name!
“Nou Dasher! Nou, Dancer! Nou, Prancer an Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On Donner an Blitzen!
Tae the tap o the portche! Tae the tap o the waw!
Nou dash awa! Dash awa! Dash awa aw!”
As dry blades ‘at afore the wild skailwind flee,
Whan thay meet wi’ sticks, lowp tae the lift.

Sae up tae the hoose-tap the courseirs thay flew,
Wi’ the sleigh fou o toys, an St Nicholas tae.
An than, in a prinkle, ah haurd on the ruif
The brankit an pautit o ilk wee cluif.

As ah drew in ma heid, an wis turnt aroond,
Doun the lum St. Nicholas cam wi a lowp.
He wis dressed aw in fur, frae his heid tae his buits,
An hus claes war aw tairnisht wi ess an suit.

A bunnle o toys he hae flung on his back,
An he leukit like a cadger, just appent his pack.
His een—hou thay glentit! His dimples hou mirkie!
His cheeks war like roses, his nib like a cherry!
His droll wee gab wis drawn up like a bowe,
An the beard o his chin wis as white as the snaw.
The runt o a gun he huild ticht in his teeth,
An the feuch it encircled his heid like a wreath.
He hae a braid face an a wee roond kyte,
‘At sheuk, whan he laucht, like a bowlful o jeely!
He wis chuffie an gausie, a richt sonsie auld elf,
An ah laucht whan ah saw him, in maugre o masel!
A wink o his een an a twistle o his heid,
Suin gae me tae ken ah hae nocht tae dreid.

He spak nae a wird, but gaed straucht tae his wark,
An fillit aw the hose; than turnt wi a jirk.
An laying his finger aside o his nib,
An giein a nod, up the lum he rose!
He breest tae his sleigh, tae his team gae a whistle,
An awa thay aw flew like the doun o a thristle.
But ah haurd him golder, ‘ere he druive oot o sicht,
“Merry Christmas tae aw, an tae aw a Guid-nicht!”