This poem was written by Peder Pedersen Skallevold (1791-1857), whose more reserved son, Mathias Pedersen Skallevold b. 1823, is pictured above. Peder owned the farm at Skallevold from 1817 until 1857. He seemed to have been a poet of sorts, and memorable enough in his antics to have had some recorded. Peder was known as a healer of toothaches and he read for "Fre og Stuv," which is to say, to all classes of people. In a time when many were illiterate, he would come and read documents, stories, the Bible and other written material. He was well known for his rhymes which always "hit the point."
It looses much in the translation, but the story goes that in Brukebakken in Ringshaug there was once a mill, which belonged to Åsmundrød. Peder had once inadvertently done something very wrong there in the mill. The miller, Tomas, was scolding him roundly for this when a rooster decided to start crowing and set up such a racket that Peder couldn't hear what he was being yelled at for and Tomas couldn't get an answer for why he had caused such a mess. So, I guess Peder didn’t feel he was really in trouble if he couldn’t hear Tomas’ admonitions over the rooster’s noise. Since Skalwolds are still prone to misadventure, the poem holds special meaning.
The area of Skallevoll is a very beautiful rural community near to Oslo Fjord where there is a beach of the same name worthy of a days lounging. Many of us, old and young, have great memories of both the beach and the surrounding area of Slagen Parish.
Nearby, is the barrow of the Oseberg Viking ship. That and the Gokstad Ship mound in Sandefjord are favorite places of contemplation for some of us, including our immigrant ancestor, Hans Skalwold. His haunts included these sites, as well as, sailing his homemade sheetmetal sailboat in Horten’s harbor amongst the many big schooners and a few other hairbrained antics. Hans’ childhood friend drafted the original drawings of the these Viking ships and presented him with copies. These were later preserved on microfilm during WW2 in the event that the originals in Norway were lost.
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Hans’ father, Morten Hartvig Mathisen, owned a fine furniture studio at 9 Apotekveien in Horten, as well as, a farm in Slagen. Pieces of furniture were crafted in the winter by countryside artisans and Hans had the duty of retrieving them in a one horse wagon. Quite a daunting task for a teenager on those hilly, dirt roads. Maybe that is why he left for America...or maybe those schooners inspired wanderlust. |
