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    13 Yule Lads live in Iceland

    13 Yule Lads live in Iceland, the sons of the old trolls Grýla and Leppalúði. Grýla and Leppalúði keep a pet, a wicked cat, which may sometimes catch children. Grýla, who is big and formidable, was said to collect the naughty children in a sack and take them home to eat for Christmas dinner. If a child is naughty, Grýla finds out immediately. Grýla can´t lay her hands on good children.
    The Yule Lads at Dimmuborgir Lake Mývatn area
    The Yule Lads at Dimmuborgir Lake Mývatn area

    13 Yule Lads live in Iceland, the sons of the old trolls Grýla and Leppalúði. Grýla and Leppalúði keep a pet, a wicked cat, which may sometimes catch children. Grýla, who is big and formidable, was said to collect the naughty children in a sack and take them home to eat for Christmas dinner. If a child is naughty, Grýla finds out immediately. Grýla can´t lay her hands on good children.

    An old tradition in Iceland is, that 13 days prior to Christmas the Yule Lads start coming down from the mountain one each night. Children in Iceland place their best shoe on their windowsill before going to bed and each night a little gift is left in the shoe from the Yule lad that came down from the mountain that night. If the child has been misbehaving, there might be a raw potato left instead.

    The Yule Lads aren’t as mean as their parents but they aren´t very well-mannered either. The Icelandic Christmas season begins on December 12th, when Stekkjastaur (Sheep-Cote Clod) descends from the mountains. The last one, Kertasníkir (Candle-Stealer) arrives on Aðfangadagur, Christmas day on the 24th of December. Then they leave again to the mountains, one by one in the same order until the last one, Kertasníkir leaves on the last day of Christmas, January 6th

    In the poem "Jólasveinavísur" by Jóhannes frá Kötlum in translation by Hallberg Hallmundsson the Yule Lads are descripted as followed;



    Let me tell the story
    of the lads of few charms, 
    who once upon a time 
    used to visit our farms. 

    They came from the mountains, 
    as many of you know, 
    in a long single file 
    to the farmsteads below. 

    Grýla was their mother 
    - she gave them ogre milk - 
    and the father Leppalúdi; 
    a loathsome ilk. 

    They were called the Yuletide lads 
    - at Yuletide they were due - 
    and always came one by one,
    not ever two by two. 



    Thirteen altogether, 
    these gents in their prime 
    didn´t want to irk people 
    all at one time. 

    Creeping up, all stealth,
    they unlocked the door. 
    The kitchen and the pantry 
    they came looking for. 

    They hid where they could,
    with a cunning look or sneer, 
    ready with their pranks 
    when people weren´t near. 

    And even when they were seen, 
    they weren´t loath to roam 
    and play their tricks - disturbing 
    the peace of the home.



    The first of them was Sheep-Cote Clod
    He came stiff as wood, 
    to pray upon the farmer´s sheep 
    as far as he could. 

    The second was Gully Gawk
    gray his head and mien. 
    He snuck into the cow barn 
    from his craggy ravine. 

    Stubby was the third called, 
    a stunted little man, 
    who watched for every chance 
    to whisk off a pan. 

    The fourth was Spoon Licker; 
    like spindle he was thin. 
    He felt himself in clover 
    when the cook wasn´t in. 

    Pot Scraper, the fifth one, 
    was a funny sort of chap. 
    When kids were given scrapings, 
    he´d come to the door and tap

    Bowl Licker, the sixth one, 
    was shockingly ill bred. 
    From underneath the bedsteads 
    he stuck his ugly head. 

    The seventh was Door Slammer
    a sorry, vulgar chap: 
    When people in the twilight 
    would take a little nap

    Skyr Gobbler, the eighth, 
    was an awful stupid bloke. 
    He lambasted the skyr tub 
    till the lid on it broke

    The ninth was Sausage Swiper,
    a shifty pilferer. 
    He climbed up to the rafters 
    and raided food from there.

    The tenth was Window Peeper,
    a weird little twit, 
    who stepped up to the window 
    and stole a peek through it

    Eleventh was Door Sniffer,
    a doltish lad and gross. 
    He never got a cold, yet had 
    a huge, sensitive nose.

    Meat Hook, the twelfth one, 
    his talent would display 
    as soon as he arrived 
    on Saint Thorlak´s Day.

    The thirteenth was Candle Beggar
    - ´twas cold, I believe, 
    if he was not the last 
    of the lot on Christmas Eve

     

    If you want to meat them you should check this out Meet the Yule Lads