In a romance from Almansa on the La Mancha-Levant borders:
Jesucristo fue a cazar,
y cazaba como solía,
ni cazaba cosa buena,
ni cosa que le valía.
Our Lord he went a-hunting
And hunted as bad as ever
Not one of all the beasts he caught
Was any use soever.
Since I can’t immediately recall any other shotgun saviour lyrics, I wonder whether this isn’t Sylvanus, the Roman god of agriculture, forestry, borders and hunting. Further complicating things, the Albacete oral history collection from which this comes (MP3s here) also includes an evil shepherd, who betrays local outlaw, Francisco Ríos, “el Pernales”. Sylvan- also turns up in the incestuous Romance of Sylvana, found in versions all over the peninsula, sometimes under the name Delgadina, which Menéndez Pelayo (Orígenes de la novela) however suggests may come from the Moorish romance of the daughter of King Nachrab.
- Catalan hunter-king meets Hungarian stag-princess
A Catalan/Southern Occitan folksong about a Hungarian princess appears to borrow Hungary’s foundational myth.
- Ahistorical Albacete
Unlike Carlos, I’m actually rather fond of Albacete, and not just because its ugliness is on a smaller scale than Birmingham’s.
- Pause + Antonio Fuentes anecdote
An expedition to examine the remains of Moorish castles and drink village wine on the Albacete-Jaén borders means that things will
- Bollocks in 16th century Spanish writing
Where arse turns up regularly in jokes, proverbs and stories, bollocks–cojones–in CORDE’s version of sixteenth century Spain seem to be confined
- Albacete / Birmingham / New York
In Amor se escribe sin hache (Amor is written without H, 1929), “an almost cosmopolitan novel,” Enrique Jardiel Poncela describe Birmingham