It’s New Year’s Day, so why not? Why not “Auld Lang Syne,” the New Year’s classic by Robert Burns (1759–1796)? Yes, it’s oversung. Yes, it’s as overfamiliar as “Jingle Bells.” Yes, it’s typically sung drunkenly on New Year’s Eve, with only the first verse and chorus known and the rest mumbled or hummed. But . . . it’s Burns, and traditional, and fun. So why not?

The poem was written in 1788, building on a 1711 ballad by James Watson, and Burns always intended it to be sung. By 1799 it had found the old tune to which it is always sung today. Along with “Epigram on Rough Roads” and “Winter: A Dirge,” previous Poems of the Day by Robert Burns here in The New York Sun, “Auld Lang Syne” mixes in Scottish dialect words, giving just enough English that the English reader can follow along.

Or so, at least, the lyrics were intended. Soon, however, the popularity of the song led to a sanding-off of the Scottish. Not the title words, of course, as they were cast in everyone’s memory of the song: “Auld Lang Syne,” the “old long since,” for time past. But English speakers weren’t catching “my joy” in “my jo,” and so it’s typically sung as “my dear.”

“Gude-willie waught” turned to “good-will draught,” and “We twa hae paidl’d in the burn” got transliterated to “We two have paddled in the stream.” Burns’s Scottish original, however, is worth reading, just for its own sake here on New Year’s Day — lest, in truth, the old-long-since slip away into the waters of forgetfulness.

Auld Lang Syne
by Robert Burns

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.

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With “Poem of the Day,” The New York Sun offers a daily portion of verse selected by Joseph Bottum with the help of the North Carolina poet Sally Thomas, the Sun’s associate poetry editor. Tied to the day, or the season, or just individual taste, the poems are drawn from the deep traditions of English verse: the great work of the past and the living poets who keep those traditions alive. The goal is always to show that poetry can still serve as a delight to the ear, an instruction to the mind, and a tonic for the soul.