Old Long Since

Another Circle Around

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Listen Here - Podcast Style

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To birth, to death, and that wondrous thing in between. And to auld lang syne.

Stephen Cox

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Photo by Matthieu Joannon on Unsplash

Old Long Since

As we greet the new year with champagne kisses and midnight fireworks one of the most recognized songs will be dancing on the lips of millions around the world. Auld Lang Syne is a new years tradition in the english speaking world and beyond. We typically only sing the first verse and chorus of Auld Lang Syne. As the first song we hear every year where did the song come from and what is it truly about?

Auld Lang Syne was written as a poem and credited to the Scottish poet Robert Burns in the late 1700s. Burns himself said that he wrote down the words from an old man singing an old Scots folk song. A ballad by the same name had existed for some time prior to the Burns version’s appearance. Regardless it is safe to say that Burns breathed some of his poetic fire into the verses. 

Auld Lange Syne was written in Scots. The English translation is included here.

Auld Lange Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o’ 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 two have run about the hills, And pulled the daisies fine;
But we’ve wander’d many a weary foot, Since auld lang syne.
We two have paddled in the brook, From mornin’ sun till dinnertime:
But seas between us broad have roar’d, Since auld lang syne.
And there’s a hand, my trusty friend, And give us a hand o’ thine;
And we’ll take a right goodwill draft,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll buy your pint‐cup, And surely I’ll buy mine;
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld lang syne.

Robert Burns

Read the Scots version here.

Auld Lang Syne translates as old long since. Times gone by or for old time sake can also follow in that theme. To me, this poem is a celebration of life. Sad recollections holding hands with celebratory affirmations are what it means to be human. Relationships. Our experiences do not define meaning. They are the fruit which can uncover meaning. To remember is to celebrate being here and everything and everyone that made us who we are at this moment. I’ll raise a cup to that!

We have Guy Lombardo and the Royal Canadians to thank for the widespread popularity of the song. 

Trumpeter Guy Lombardo and his three brothers formed the nucleus of the Royal Canadians, the party band contracted to play The Roosevelt Hotel’s New Year's Eve bash in 1929. By coincidence, they played Auld Lang Syne just after the clock hit midnight, and as fortune had it, the upscale Manhattan hotel was broadcasting it on NBC Radio.  A new years tradition was born!

Lombardo ascended to the title of Mr. New Year's Eve virtually defining the role of modern New Year's Eve emcee, complete with gentle one-liners, a climactic ball drop and a Times Square frenzy. Lombardo held this post until his death in 1977.

With Lombardo's passing, Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve ascended to the throne. Now Ryan Seacrest is the host. The Royal Canadians recording still remains the version of Auld Lang Syne you hear as the ball drops in Times Square on New Year's Eve. Watch a video of the recording from 1953 here.

Guy Lombardo is from my hometown of London, Ontario, Canada! Yes Canada. Variety magazine called Lombardo the only Canadian ever to create an American tradition.

Guy Lombardo first heard this song when, as teenaged musicians, he and his brothers toured the rural areas around London Ontario which had been settled by Scottish immigrants in the 1800s. In one of those delightful multicultural blends that are so representative of the Canadian experience Lombardo heard the tune and translated it once again, this time to a big band musical version that we still hear today as the infamous ball drops at Times Square.

So what is the song/poem about? 

Echoing Meg Ryan’s character Sally Albright responding to Billy Crystal’s Harry Burns in the 1989 comedy When Harry Met Sally. “Well, maybe it just means that … we should remember that we forgot them, or something. Anyway, it’s about old friends.”

Old friends. Times gone by. Old long since. 

But what an appropriate song it is. It evokes strong memories of old friendships that never die, of old loves that remain young and the bright vivid colours of youthful dreams. The full version is played at funerals and graduations in the spirit of gratitude for old time’s sake.

I took a drive to find the site of the old Lombardo house near the corner of Richmond and Horton Streets in London Ontario. Ironically in the late 1940s Labatt brewing company demolished the house in order to build a retail beer store to sell pints of beer.

The final verses of Burn’s poem coming to life;

“And there’s a hand, my trusty friend, And give us a hand o’ thine;
And we’ll take a right goodwill draft,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll buy your pint‐cup, And surely I’ll buy mine;
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld lang syne.”

Lombardo long forgotten by his own hometown and country, remembered by a plaque on the wall of a beer store where we can buy a pint-cup. Immortalized in a tradition where we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet for old times sake, old long since. 

So raise a glass to Burns, to Guy Lombardo and The Royal Canadians, old acquaintances never be forgot, for old times sake. 

Now you know the rest of the story.

Photo by J.Millard London Canada Dec 28 2023

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I will share a poem in gratitude as I remember this past year. The words are a celebration of being here and everything and everyone that has had a hand in this moment as I live into the questions of another year in cuoreosity. 

Old Long Since

Another year
Old long since
The new year pulls hard at me
A surging tide that feels like it will drown me
The shifting storms and swells 
leave me feeling like a lunatic
Who am I?
In the retreating year
I knew I was here
I tasted myself inside the coffee
still warm on my tongue
This past year burned me
Yet it never left a scar
I bled hard
Yet I cannot find the wound
to caress
In the small cracks 
that can only be forced to open 
we give ourselves away 
Unfolding into
what lies beyond a body
Reaching out a hand 
to something 
that could never tell us why
Time is a forsaken ghost 
that comes back to collect the toll
In the ageing bones 
of forgotten wisdom
the quest is quenched 
in the wrinkles of remembrance 
Another year 
old long since
My bare feet cool 
in the kissing clover of a black night
Standing still
Howling
as the moon swallows my light
and the sweet darkness 
welcomes me home

© Jamie Millard

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We do not remember days. We remember moments.

Cesar Pavese

Thank you to the Substack community for welcoming me here with open arms. Poetry opens up the spaces where transformation is possible. Poetry is an act of presence. Being a poet can be a lonely place in the spaces between the words. 

Thank you so much for reading. The full audio podcast version is shared at the start of this article. Bless you all as the widening circle comes to take us for another spiral. Are we a falcon, a storm or a never ending song?
Happy New Year!

Lots of Love,

Jamie