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I get a Knitter's Page-a-Day calendar thingie sent to my email every day. Usually it's just little snide asides, all the stuff knitters think but don't generally say out loud - you can never have enough yarn, how can your partner complain about how many needles you have, then go get just *one* more screwdriver, that sort of thing. Some helpful tidbits, some historical things. And then there was today's:

The Way Knit Was
In 19th-century Iceland, as a motivator to get people to work hard and use up all of the autumn wool, folklore held that each person needed to receive at least one new knitted garment each Christmas - or suffer the wrath of the Yule Cat, a large, vicious, and cruel feline who would come and eat them.

I don't care if it's a true legend - I'm not even going to check - because I *want* it to be true. Too Funny!

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
tamarinne
Dec. 23rd, 2010 02:56 pm (UTC)
'One of Iceland's most beloved poets in this century, Jóhannes úr Kötlum, wrote a lay about the Yule Cat. It follows in the translation of Vignir Jónsson, who says: "You'll have to forgive me but I didn't make it rhyme - I'm not much of a poet."'

You all know the Yule Cat
And that Cat was huge indeed.
People didn't know where he came from
Or where he went.

He opened his glaring eyes wide,
The two of them glowing bright.
It took a really brave man
To look straight into them.

His whiskers, sharp as bristles,
His back arched up high.
And the claws of his hairy paws
Were a terrible sight.

He gave a wave of his strong tail,
He jumped and he clawed and he hissed.
Sometimes up in the valley,
Sometimes down by the shore.

He roamed at large, hungry and evil
In the freezing Yule snow.
In every home
People shuddered at his name.

If one heard a pitiful "meow"
Something evil would happen soon.
Everybody knew he hunted men
But didn't care for mice.

He picked on the very poor
That no new garments got
For Yule - who toiled
And lived in dire need.

From them he took in one fell swoop
Their whole Yule dinner
Always eating it himself
If he possibly could.

Hence it was that the women
At their spinning wheels sat
Spinning a colorful thread
For a frock or a little sock.

Because you mustn't let the Cat
Get hold of the little children.
They had to get something new to wear
From the grownups each year.

And when the lights came on, on Yule Eve
And the Cat peered in,
The little children stood rosy and proud
All dressed up in their new clothes.

Some had gotten an apron
And some had gotten shoes
Or something that was needed
- That was all it took.

For all who got something new to wear
Stayed out of that pussy-cat's grasp
He then gave an awful hiss
But went on his way.

Whether he still exists I do not know.
But his visit would be in vain
If next time everybody
Got something new to wear.

Now you might be thinking of helping
Where help is needed most.
Perhaps you'll find some children
That have nothing at all.

Perhaps searching for those
That live in a lightless world
Will give you a happy day
And a Merry, Merry Yule.

jesslin
Dec. 23rd, 2010 03:08 pm (UTC)
Bwa ha haha!!! That's *awesome*!!

I hope a scarf counts as clothes... :D
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )