Antigo Silt Loamsong

Madison Monthly Meeting A selection of Francis Hole’s SONGS OF THE SOIL
8 February 2001 Intergenerational Forum (most from 1985, except as marked)
A New Psalm (inspired by Psalm 19) Where Have All The Bedrocks Gone? 'Tis A Gift To Have Soil
The earth beneath the feet of all runners and walkers Where have all the bedrocks gone? 'Tis a gift to have soil,
Declares the glory of God, our Cherisher! Long time weathering. 'Tis a gift to have land,
The roots of trees and grasses, the mole Where have all the bedrocks gone 'Tis a gift to belong to
And all organisms in the rich realm of darkness... That have formed so long ago? The place where we stand.
These are God's handiwork. And if we are contented with
Where have all the bedrocks gone? The work that we are doing
Our life in the realm of sunlight Gone to residuum....
Is upheld by the vital earth. God made it so. We've discovered a community
And to the sediments.... That's energy renewing.
All creatures that live on the land And to the vital soils!
depend on the soil, Chorus: When true community is gained,
Which is like a strong parent, To bow and to bend
Providing for all peoples and Oh Give Me A Home We shall not be ashamed.
All creatures that live above the waters. To turn and to turn
Praise be to the holy ground that is softly under Oh give me a home Will be our delight,
our feet; On a deep mellow loam Till by turning, turning
Praise be to God who has blessed the living carpet That supports the trees and the grass; We come round right.
That He has spread for our walking, Where we hardly recall 'Tis a gift to have seed,
In the days of our living in the flesh, A bad crop year at all, 'Tis a gift to have plants,
And into which our rich residues will return. and the crickets rejoice as we pass. 'Tis a gift to behold
-- Francis Doan Hole Home, home on the loam So much beauty at a glance
that supports the trees and the grass. As we survey a garden
Where we hardly recall Where we've given hours of toil
a bad crop year at all, A community of flora, fauna,
. . . . And New Words to Old Tunes. . . . and the crickets rejoice as we pass. People and of soil.
Some Think That Soil Is Dirt

You Are My Soil, My Only Soil
Some think that soil is dirt and quite disgusting This Our Life Finds Tongues In Trees
You are my soil...my only soil;
(This is not true! This is not true!) This our life finds tongues in trees; You keep me vital [by] night and day.
Some think it makes the air all brown and dusting Books in brooks that read with ease; This much I know, friend,
(Good dust to you! Good dust to you!) Sermons in stone and soils that sing; You do support me:
Praise Mother Earth, she is our earthly Mother Something good in every thing. Please don't erode my life's soil away!
(She gives us bread! She gives us bread!)
Praise ground, the holy ground that's softly under One great good beneath our feet
(Our feet that tread! Our feet that tread!) Is wondrous earth: clay, sand, and peat; Darkle, Darkle
With roots of plants in firm embrace,
Vigor, vigor from the soil does flow! The soil supports the human race. Darkle, darkle little grain.
Roots and life are teeming down below! I wonder how you entertain
No wonder that this land's so green, In myself are intertwined A thousand creatures microscopic.
the farms and flowers so fresh and clean! flesh and spirit well inclined; Grains like you from pole to tropic
Soil is everywhere! Dust I am with gift of breath: Support land life upon this planet.
From it sweet blessings gently flow. I feel safe in life and death. I marvel at you, crumb of granite!
( melody on reverse )
The Antigo Silt Loam Song F. D. Hole (1980)
An - ti - go, a soil to know, Wis - con-sin’s crops and livestock grow; and forests too, on
An - ti - go; and forests, too, on An - ti - go.
2. Great Lakes region, fertile land; glaciers spread both clay and sand; 4. Plant a seed and pull a weed; the soil will give us all we need
Winds blew silt, then forests grew, giving soils their brownish hue. And plenty more, so birds may feed: and plenty more, so birds may feed.
3. Great Lakes region, fertile land, you strengthen us in heart and hand; 5. Of all the crops, true peace is tops; its soil is love that never stops;
Each slope, each flower, each wild bird call proclaims a unity in all. It blesses sand and water drops: it blesses sand and water drops.
This Our Life Finds Tongues In Trees
Inch by inch, age by
age, granite crumbles.
At every stage plants
build porous, fertile
loam of a depth that
does astound. Prairie
makes a soil that’s
black; forest soil is
pale for lack of fibrous
roots and sunshine
pouring over the lively
ground. (See reverse of this sheet for F.D. Hole’s lyrics to this melody.)
Inch by inch, year by

year, soils of our
country disappear. The Walking on the Earth F.D. Hole (c) 1989
work of ages is undone
by uses that impair.
Topsoil washes, goes
to waste; crops are The mo -ment that a child can walk, like that in which it first can talk, is a
grown in too much
haste; technical fix
cannot improve a soil
no longer there.
pre - cious start of ex - plo - ra - tion in-to land-scapes of cre - a - tion.
Inch by inch, day by
day, we’ll bring the
topsoil back to stay.
We’ll heal the earth Chorus: Walk-ing, walk-ing, walk-ing, walk-ing, walk-ing on the earth!
and raise our crops
according to Nature’s 2. By sense of touch the feet assess the nature of the wilderness of
plan. We’ll gladly pay a
earth beneath; yet human speech cannot express what feet can teach.
grocery bill that helps
keep soil on yonder
hill, and debt-free
families on the farm. These two pages show only a selection of the soil songs Francis Hole has written. He once made up a
Eden’s where it all booklet of songs in a sequence visualizing the life history of soils, starting with the long-ago world of rocks
began. only (“No foot, no green! No plant is seen!”) through weathering (“Where have all the bedrocks gone?”) to
actual soil (“It’s soft, it’s dark, it’s full of vital spark; above is green where the plants are seen and we hear
Inch by inch, hour by the meadow lark”).
Once the world has soil, Francis asks us to consider the way soil works in our world. Soil is the root
hour, subtle change in
domain (“Where are the roots of trees? Badgers and bumble bees, products like bread and cheese, work
soil or flower makes a place and leisure ease depend on the soil.”) Soil is home (“Our native soil claimed us all from the start!
natural landscape new! Gave us our landscape and captured our heart!”). Soil is an irreplaceable gift (“‘Tis a gift to have soil” ...
Surprise is always “You are my soil, my only soil”).
there. The best-laid Soil in its darkness has color (“A rainbow of soil is under our feet: red as a barn and black as a
plans of the human peat. It’s yellow as lemon and white as the snow; bluish gray ... so many colors below. Hidden in
race cannot match
darkness as thick as the night; the only rainbow that can form without light. Dig you a pit or bore you a
hole, you’ll find enough colors to rest your soul.”). Soil teaches us the experience of time, season to
Dame Nature’s space. season (“The Soil in the Four Seasons”) and ever to forever (“Inch by Inch, Age by Age”). And soil
We’ll read her signs, connects all lands all over the world (“What’s It Like To Be A Kangaroo? What’s It Like To Be A Soil
study her ways, and There Too?” ... “Soils, All Over These Lands”). Soil underlies our joy: “Something in me is making me
show her that we care. sing, in spite of complaints about every thing. Look at the wet mud and what do we see? Flowers all
blooming and a sweet honey bee!”
( Notes written for Francis, with love,

by one who has listened and watched for
======================== these last 34 years! --Gundega Korsts 8 Feb. 2001 )
Francis Hole died on 15 Jan. 2002
========================

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Madison Monthly Meeting A selection of Francis Hole’s SONGS OF THE SOIL

8 February 2001 Intergenerational Forum (most from 1985, except as marked)

Some Think That Soil Is Dirt

The Antigo Silt Loam Song F. D. Hole (1980)

An - ti - go; and forests, too, on An - ti - go.

Inch by inch, year by

( Notes written for Francis, with love,

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