The Soddy Dug Into A Hill/Poem/Bette Wolf Duncan

The Soddy Dug Into A Hill

Looking down on their herd and their family’s spread
in the Red River Valley below,
they thought of their ancestral "Greats" and their "Grands,"
who lived here a century ago. 

It was spoken of yet and they’d never forget
the day of their Grandfather’s birth.
He was born to this land! He was born in the land,
in a soddy dug into the earth!

Bohemian settlers! The offspring of serfs,
with transplanted roots in this Red River turf;
with hard-working hands that were well-scarred from toil,
they shoveled a home out of Red River soil. 

And there in a hillside, their first child was born;
in the midst of a blizzard’s contemptuous scorn.
He was born to the land. He was born in the land—
in a soddy dug into a hill.
Though the years had rolled on and the soddy was gone,
his descendants could picture it still.


With a quilt for a window, a quilt for a door,
and a carpet of straw on a frozen earth floor.
It was cold! It was cold! And the soddy was bare.
Just a table, some chairs and a string bed was there; 

with a wood-burning stove that devoured all the wood,
with a voracious greed, just as fast as it could.
It was damp! It was cold, nearly twenty below—
and the winds whipped the quilts and hurled in the snow!

Somehow, he survived and in later years, thrived
in this soddy dug into a hill.
He survived on the strength of a dream and a prayer—
and his family’s iron-tough will.
They were born to the land^*. He was born in the land,
in a dug-out of tough prairie sod.
Although feverish and weak and ill as a babe,
he was blessed by a merciful God.

His descendants owed much to their "Grands" and their "Greats";
this sprawling Red River estate.
They could still see them yet; and would never forget.
They were good! They were grand! They were great!
They were born to the land and gave birth on this land
to descendants who now viewed with pride
this ranch of much worth that the offspring of serfs
transformed out of raw riverside.

© 2010, Bette Wolf Duncan
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.

Dedicated to Mathias Lorenc (1815 -1880), Great, Great Grandfather and Matej Lorenc (Lawrence) (1844-1910), Great Grandfather. Both were from Damosin, Bohemia and came to the United States in 1870. Also, Frank Lawrence, Grandfather (1874 - 1967), first baby boy born in Wahpeton, Dakota Territory.

*The term "Born To This Land" is from a poem of that name by Red Steagall. He used that phrase in a philosophical or metaphorical sense. As to Mathias and Matej Lorenc, that term has literal significance. Until 1848, the rural Czech peasants were serfs of the nobility. As such, they were bound to the land; if their feudal lord decided to sell it, they went with the land. They could not leave the land or marry someone from a different manor, without their lord’s permission. Moreover, their offspring were legally bound to the land and subject to the same restrictions.