Glosa

Old Acquaintance

Old Acquaintance

Or, Glosa on Auld Lang Syne

"Should old acquaintance be forgot,

    and never brought to mind?

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

    For sake of auld lang syne?"

        - Auld Lang Syne (attrib. Robert Burns)

I see you’ve brought some nice champagne.

Sit there, where I can see you best;

my eyes aren’t great, and nor’s my brain.

I pickled it for good. I guessed

attempts to keep it well-preserved

would save my mind from going to pot.

Alas, not so. The time it’s served

has left me numb and broken-nerved.

Forgive my drift and blame the rot

should old acquaintance be forgot.

In new years past, when I was young,

and folks were getting blitzed indoors,

it wasn’t Auld Lang Syne we sung

when midnight came to Europe’s shores.

We’ve all had outings we regret,

those nights we’d rather leave behind.

The blackouts helped us to forget

the people we had never met.

And is it a surprise to find

these thoughts are never brought to mind?

We painted towns in blazing red,

like hurricanes that blew astray.

The fire we spat would wake the dead.

We lost a few along the way,

but now I can’t remember who.

Their names became an inky blot;

those butterflies that sometime flew

are smudges set in solemn hue

where once they were a Mandelbrot.

Should old acquaintance be forgot—

Where was I? Ah, that reckless night:

survived it all. I don’t know how.

I’ve never claimed that it was right—

I’ll take that cup of kindness now—

but England, as they say, expects.

No matter who the fates malign,

no matter whom the deed affects.

So here, in lieu of my respects,

I’ll raise a glass of sparkling wine—

for sake of auld lang syne.