Hogmanay
Fireworks over Edinburgh
Image | David Hatton
Maybe it’s the climate with long, cold, dark nights. Maybe it’s just the psyche of the people. Whatever the reason, we Scots are never slow to turn a celebration into a party. The winter months in Scotland are scattered with festivities—Halloween, Guy Fawkes (or Bonfire) Night, St Andrew’s Day, Burns Night, not to mention Christmas! But when it comes to celebrations, aboon them a’ (above them all), is Hogmanay.
When friends and family across the globe gather on New Year’s Eve to see out the old year and welcome in the new, they join together in customs that were carried across the world by Scots emigrants centuries ago. These traditions took root like the seeds of a thistle and, like the thistle, New Year’s Eve is synonymous with Scotland—a wee dram, a nibble of shortbread, the skirl of the bagpipes and, of course, joining hands in “Auld Lang Syne.”
A lone bagpiper on the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle
Image | Markus Vogt, PIxabay
Suggestions as to the origins of the name Hogmanay are as varied as the cultures that have shaped our nation—Gaelic, Norse and Anglo-Saxon to name a few. As the word first appeared in written records from around the 16th century, the most plausible explanation is that Mary Queen of Scots introduced the term when she returned to Scotland from France, where gifts called “hoguignetes” would be exchanged on the last day of the year.
Whatever the origin of the name, festivities to celebrate this important turning point in the year, the passing of the old and the dawning of the new, date back into the mists of time. The Celts marked the end of the harvest season with a winter solstice festival called Samhain; the Romans held their feast of Saturnalia; while the Vikings, in the 7th Century, introduced the Norse festival of Yule. What all of these festivities had in common was feasting, dancing, decorating homes and, of course, fire. Fire to drive out the old and evil, and fire to let in the light.
Torchlight celebrations
Image | David Hatton
With the coming of Christianity, the Catholic Church invested the pagan midwinter festival with a Christian significance and chose the day of Christ’s birth as the focus for their celebrations. From the 13th century onwards, midwinter festivities centred around Christmas, which became a rare occasion when workers could lay down their tools and enjoy eating and drinking, parties and bonfires, visiting with and hosting friends and family—general “daftness”!
Then in the middle of the 16th century came the Reformation. Bad enough across the rest of Europe, but in Scotland we really got the bit between our Calvinist teeth! The Scots Kirk banned the Popish feasting and celebration of Christ’s Mass (Christmas) and those found celebrating would be punished. Even bakers making Christmassy treats could be fined and forced to give the names of their customers.
Through the 17th century, the battle raged between the Kirk and the people. Even the King broke the rules! James VI of Scotland, a staunch Protestant King, regularly celebrated Christmas with his court—“shooting of cannons out of the Castell of Edinburgh, and other signes [sic] of joy”. While the King partied, the people were punished—in the town of Elgin in 1559, it’s recorded that the populace were forbidden to indulge in “profane pastime…. Footballing through the town, snowballing, singing of carols, or other profane songs, guising, piping and dancing.” Deprived of Christmas festivities, the revelry gradually shifted to New Year and eventually the Kirk turned a blind eye.
Even as the ban on Christmas was generally lifted across the rest of Britain, the Presbyterian Church of Scotland stood firm. For the next 300 years, the winter solstice holiday was celebrated at New Year, when friends and family gathered together to party and exchange presents. As Victoria and Albert introduced many of the Christmas customs that we recognise today, the Scots scorned it as “distinctly English” and Hogmanay continued to be the time to let their hair down. It wasn’t until 1958 that Christmas Day became a public holiday in Scotland. Until then, it was just another ordinary working day.
Whisky—the traditional toast Slainte Mhath
Image | Thomas Park, Unsplash
The commercialisation of Christmas has meant that nowadays we celebrate this holiday with the best of them, but Hogmanay remains a very important time of year for Scots. So, what can you expect if you come to join the thousands of revellers that descend on Scotland to share in our celebrations? Today we have a modern interpretation of ancient traditions that have been handed down through generations, so it’s as well to do a little homework beforehand to understand them.
First of all, it’s important to be able to pronounce Hogmanay. There is some debate—the more refined pronounce the first syllable HUG, while the man in the street will likely pronounce it HOG but both will stress the HOG – short ma – full stress NAY. Just be sure you don’t pronounce it HUG-me-NOW…that comes later!
It’s considered bad luck to wish anyone a Happy New Year before the chime of midnight, so the tradition is “A Happy New Year when it comes”. Once the New Year comes in, we call it Ne’erday for New Year’s Day and the traditional greeting would be “A Guid New Year” for Happy New Year.
Traditionally all affairs would have to be put in order before the end of the year. The house would be cleaned from top to bottom paying particular attention to the fire. ome people would read the ashes of the very last fire of the year to see what the year ahead would hold. Along with the redding (getting ready) of the house, all debts would have to be settled before the stroke of midnight. It was considered bad luck for the whole year if you started with a dirty house or unpaid debts and for many, and these traditions are still upheld today.
As the old year drew to a close, people would begin to congregate in a central place such as the Mercat (market) Cross, Tron (weigh-beam) or Church. It didn’t matter where, so long as it was within the sound of the town clock. The first stroke of the chimes at midnight is known as “The Bells,” and still to this day, as that first chime rings out, signalling the beginning of a New Year, the place goes crazy!
One of the most important features of Hogmanay is warm hospitality—to friends and strangers alike—and so the first action of the New Year is to kiss, not just your friends and family, but everyone around you. Today celebrations have become more public and organised with many towns and cities organising a programme of events, each having their own treasured traditions like torchlight processions and fireball ceremonies, combined with live music, street parties, performers, and , of course, ceilidhs (kay-lees), the Scottish name for an impromptu party! There’s a lot of kissing goes on—a lot!
Street party in Edinburgh
Image | Kate Wellington, Wikimedia Commons
After welcoming in the New Year, the tradition is that neighbours will visit each other’s homes. This is called first-footing, and although it has died out to some extent in favour of organised events, in rural and remote areas this tradition is still very strong. The first-foot was the first person outside your family to cross your doorstep after midnight and you were hoping that they would be tall, dark and handsome as this would ensure that you had good luck for the rest of the year. This probably goes back to the days when the last thing you wanted turning up on your doorstep was a blond or red-headed, short, squat Viking!
Be warned: if you are going visiting, it’s considered very bad luck, not to mention rude, to enter a house empty-handed. Traditional gifts would be whisky to ensure a year of never going thirsty, shortbread or black bun (a fruit cake wrapped in pastry) to ensure that you never went hungry, and a lump of coal to symbolise a year of warmth and prosperity. You offer everyone a New Year dram from your bottle, and they reciprocate: Slainte Mhath (slanj-a-va) the traditional toast or Lang May Yer Lum Reek—long may your chimney smoke!
Traditional First Foot gifts
Image | Liz Lister
After the bells, the head of the house would traditionally open the back door to let the old year out and then open the front door to allow the New Year in. The household would make as much noise as possible to scare off evil spirits. Fisherman and sailors would sound their horns in the harbours; steam trains would blow their whistles; and factories would blare sirens.
Celebrations last well into the night (if not the next day), and at some point, you’ll join with friends, old and new, to sing the song that epitomises New Year all around the world : “Auld Lang Syne.” Credited to our national bard (poet) Robert Burns, he took the words from an old ballad and set them to the tune of a traditional folk song, publishing the song as we know it in 1788. It should be sung as the bells ring out because it symbolises endings and new beginnings and evokes memories of friends and family no longer present but always remembered.
Nowadays it’s usually only the first and the final verse that are sung, but it’s a beautiful, melancholic song in its entirety. It’s one of the most frequently sung songs in the English language, yet few that sing it appreciate the words, or even get them right.
Auld Lang Syne (translated)
Should old acquaintances be forgotten
And never be remembered?
Should old acquaintances be forgotten
and days long ago.
Chorus:
For days long ago, my dear,
For days long ago yet
We'll drink a cup of kindness yet
For days long ago!
And surely you'll have your pint tankard
And surely I'll have mine.
And we'll drink a cup of kindness yet
For days long ago.
(Chorus)
We two have run about the hills
And pulled the daisies fine
But we've wandered many a weary mile
Since the days long ago.
(Chorus)
We two have paddled in the stream
From morning sun till dinner-time
But broad seas have roared between us
Since the days long ago.
(Chorus)
And here's my hand, my trusty friend,
And give me your hand too,
And we will take an nice good-will drink
For the days of long ago.
(Chorus)
Auld Lang Syne (original)
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 you'll be your pint stoup,
And surely I'll be mine
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne!
(Chorus)
We twa hae ran about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine
But we've wander'd monie a weary fit
Sin' auld lang syne.
(Chorus)
We twa hae paidl'd in the burn
Frae morning sun til dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin' auld lang syne.
(Chorus)
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!
(Chorus)
Actually knowing the words puts you far in advance of most Scots, but a few final tips to stamp your credentials!
First form a circle and join hands with the person to either side of you. Don’t cross hands but swing them in and out.
Don’t sing “for the sake of auld lang syne”. It’s “for auld lang syne”—for days long ago.
As the final verse starts “And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,” you give your left hand to the person on your right and vice versa so that your hands are crossed.
As the final chorus starts, you charge into the centre on the first line and out on the second, etc.
And if you can’t remember any of this, at least remember one thing: It’s “Auld Lang Syne”— not “old lang zyne!”
