“Auld Lang Syne” won’t sound as tender this time, as weepy and sentimental.

2020 has gotten pretty auld.

There’ll be cheers and bravos all right — to see this awful year end.

Go away, please, and never darken our calendar again.

Any misguided applause at the departure of 2020 will be the sound of one hand clapping.

Balloons, horns, confetti and kaleidoscopic swirls of paper streamers in the air will be for the newbie, 2021….

Hoping — and hoping — it will be nothing like its predecessor.

At the clock’s final stroke of the old year, as 2021 arrives, everyone still around and still standing should celebrate the New Year above the wreckage.

The past twelve months have been the wretchedest imaginable.

The Coronavirus pandemic, death, drought, destruction, the nastiest political campaign this country has seen, racial violence, riots, looting, burning.

Businesses closed for good, jobs lost, mandatory face masks, social distancing.

Church bells silenced, church doors locked, religion via home computer.

2020 has been one big locust swarm of bad news.

This lousy year was probably hatched in the Oort Cloud, that huge shell beyond the solar system where dirty snowballs study to become comets.

Not only was church — as we know it — cancelled, so were sports, picnics, parades, funerals, weddings, important meetings, you name it.

Someday some mean linebacker in football will no doubt request jersey number “2020” to advertise his cussedness.

What a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad year.

Goodbye and good riddance, MMXX.

Good luck, MMXXI.

Corky Simpson is a veteran journalist who writes a column for the Green Valley News.