There's a New Year's Eve tradition
The Highlands celebrate,
A superstitious ritual
Foreboding this year's fate.

Once midnight has been ushered in
With merriment and glee,
Attention turns to the front door,
Awaiting anxiously.

The first visitor to set his foot
Across the entryway
Will affect the family's fortune,
Profoundly, so they say.

With bated breath, the Scots hope for
An unknown passerby,
For a stranger carries with him
A year's good luck supply.

The New Year dawns.
The lass is awake.
She's off to the well
For fortune's sake.

The first water drawn,
The "cream of the well,"
Will this very day
Her future foretell.

A bride she will be
'Ere the year is through
And who sips from her cup
Will be her groom true.