Scotland leapt into the New Year

Everyone with their own bottle, black bun, a tidy home and an open door.

Sausage rolls, sandwiches and that big pot of soup to keep the revellers up all night.

Our needs were small.

Younger, fitter folk first-footing

Greeting their friends, laughing from house to house

While the elderly got maudlin in the corner till,

Kisses at Midnight and the hope of that lucky dark first footer.

Dancing and drinking would go on till the wee sma’ hours.

Now, New Year is organised not organic.

By invite or paid entry only.

Forced gaiety with glad rags on,

Going out for the countdown to one.

A Guid New Year, when it comes.