The Santas 
( Jóhannes úr Kætlar ) 

I want to tell a story 
of those boys, 
who broke here in the past 
on the farms home. 

They were seen up in the mountains, 
-as many people know, - 
in a long tail tail 
on the way down to the countryside. 

Grýla was their mother 
and gave them giant milk, 
but the father Leppalúði, 
-there were boring people. 

Those Santas were named, 
-in Christmas they appeared, 
and one by one they came, 
but never two and two. 

They were thirteen 
these gentlemen, 
who did not want to annoy 
all at once 

At the door they snuck in 
and reduced the valve. 
And most of all, they searched 
in the kitchen and pantry. 

Cunning at first glance 
they hid here and there, 
to the useless indicator, 
if no one was around. 

And like, though some see, 
was not hesitated 
to tease people - and disturb 
its peace of mind. 

Jumping pole  came first, 
sticks like a tree. 
He snuck into the sheepfolds 
and played on the farmer's money. 

He wanted to suckle the ewes, 
-then they had no seals, 
for the poor man had legs, 
-It did not go well now. 

Giljagaur  was another, 
with his gray head. 
-He crawled down from the gorge 
and shot into the barn. 

He hid in the booths 
and the foam stole, 
while the cowgirl had 
to the cowboy talk. 

Stúfur  was the name of the third, 
the stump saw. 
He crouched in a pan, 
when possible. 

He ran away with her 
and shook the particles, 
which sometimes burned solid 
at the bosom here and there. 

The fourth,  Washing Games, 
was distantly narrow. 
And he rejoiced greatly, 
when the cook went. 

Then he flew like lightning 
and the wash grabbed, 
and held with both hands, 
because she was sometimes slippery. 

The fifth  Pottaskefill, 
was a strange cold. 
-When the children got shovels 
he knocked on the door. 

They ruku'up, to take care of 
whether a guest was traveling. 
Then he hurried to the pot 
and got a good price.