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b"Gle\\xf0ileg j\\xf3l fr\\xe1 Saga Thing! We're back with another exciting holiday discovery for you. This time, we share a bit of backgroundy stuff about the famous Yule Lads of Icelandic tradition before premiering a brand new poem about them. This may or may not be the oldest surviving poem about the Yule Lads, though we have some suspicions about the nature of the manuscript we were working from for the translation. Either way, it's a lot of fun. \\nMerry Christmas!\\nIf you're interested, here's the original poem (in Icelandic) by J\\xf3hannes \\xfar K\\xf6tlum\\n\\u201cJ\\xf3lasveinarnir\\u201d by J\\xf3hannes \\xfar K\\xf6tlumEnglish translation by Hallberg Hallmundsson\\nLet me tell the storyof the lads of few charms,who once upon a timeused to visit our farms.\\nThirteen altogether,these gents in their primedidn\\xb4t want to irk peopleall at one time.\\nThey came from the mountains,as many of you know,in a long single fileto the farmsteads below.\\nCreeping up, all stealth,they unlocked the door.The kitchen and the pantrythey came looking for.\\nGr\\xfdla was their mother \\u2013she gave them ogre milk \\u2013and the father Leppal\\xfadi;a loathsome ilk.\\nThey hid where they could, with a cunning look or sneer,ready with their prankswhen people weren\\xb4t near.\\nThey were called the Yuletide lads\\u2013 at Yuletide they were due \\u2013and always came one by one,not ever two by two.\\nAnd even when they were seen,they weren\\xb4t loath to roam and play their tricks \\u2013 disturbingthe peace of the home.\\nThe first of them was Sheep-Cote Clod.\\nHe came stiff as wood,to pray upon the farmer\\xb4ssheep as far as he could.\\nHe wished to suck the ewes,but it was no accidenthe couldn\\xb4t; he had stiff knees \\u2013not to convenient.\\nThe second was Gully Gawk,gray his head and mien.He snuck into the cow barnfrom his craggy ravine.\\nHiding in the stalls,he would steal the milk,while the milkmaid gave the cowherda meaningful smile.\\nStubby was the third called,a stunted little man,who watched for every chanceto whisk off a pan.\\nAnd scurrying away with it,he scraped off the bitsthat stuck to the bottomand brims \\u2013 his favorites.\\nThe fourth was Spoon Licker;like spindle he was thin.He felt himself in cloverwhen the cook wasn\\xb4t in.\\nThen stepping up, he grappledthe stirring spoon with glee,holding it with both handsfor it was slippery.\\nPot Scraper, the fifth one,was a funny sort of chap.When kids were given scrapings,he\\xb4d come to the door and tap.\\nAnd they would rush to seeif there really was a guest.Then he hurried to the potand had a scrapingfest.\\nBowl Licker, the sixth one,was shockingly ill bred.From underneath the bedsteadshe stuck his ugly head.\\nAnd when the bowls were leftto be licked by dog or cat,he snatched them for himself \\u2013he was sure good at that!\\nThe seventh was Door Slammer,a sorry, vulgar chap:When people in the twilightwould take a little nap,\\nhe was happy as a larkwith the havoc he could wreak,slamming doors and hearingthe hinges on them sqeak\\nSkyr Gobbler, the eighth,was an awful stupid bloke.He lambasted the skyr tubtill the lid on it broke.\\nThen he stood there gobbling\\u2013 his greed was well known \\u2013until, about to burst,he would bleat, howl and groan.\\nThe ninth was Sausage Swiper, a shifty pilferer.He climbed up to the raftersand raided food from there.\\nSitting on a crossbeamin soot and in smoke,he fed himselfon sausage fit for gentlefolk.\\nThe tenth was Window Peeper,a weird little twit,who stepped up to the windowand stole a peek through it.\\nAnd whatever was insideto which his eye was drawn,he most likely attemptedto take later on.\\nEleventh was Door Sniffer,a doltish lad and gross.He never got a cold,yet had a huge, sensitive nose.\\nHe caught the scent of lacebread while leagues away stilland ran toward it weightlessas wind over dale and hill\\nMeat Hook, the twelfth one,his talent would displayas soon as he arrivedon Saint Thorlak\\xb4s Day.\\nHe snagged himself a morselof meet of any sort,although his hook at timeswas a tiny bit short.\\nThe thirteenth was Candle Beggar \\u2013\\xb4twas cold, I believe,if he was not the lastof the lot on Christmas Eve."