THE YULE CAT

In Iceland, prowls the Yule Cat

You’ve heard him scream at night

From darkness does he first appear

then vanishes from sight

His glowing eyes like embers burn

They reach into your soul

The bravest of the brave

dares not venture past it's hole.

His whiskers, sharp as bristlebrush

His coat as black as night

And claws like silvery daggers shine

reflecting pale moonlight.

Up and down the countryside

he hunts for those who shirk

hissing at the doorways of

the ones who fail to work.

Inside their meager huts the people

tremble at the sound

of circling foodpads crunching

on the newly frozen ground

For those who fail to spin and weave

the Jolakottur hunts

By Yule, the autumn harvest wool

must serve the people's wants

Women at their wheels do spin

and men their fabrics weave

to make a frock for little ones

an apron, or a sleeve.

For on that Yuletide evening

when the Yule Cat looks within

The children must be standing proud

In something more than skin.

For if they've naught to wear that night

and all have failed the test

Jolakottur will EAT THEM UP!

and leave their house unblessed.

So parents heed this warning

your children warmly dress

For Yule Cat watches all you do

from just beyond darkness.

-K.Barger-Harbert  2004

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