My new cyberfriend, Ann Poche (pronounced Poshay), sent me a book on Southern Speech she picked up a garage sale. She probably spent more on mailing it than she did on the book. But what a delightful trip down memory lane.
I sat rat down on the front poach and began reading it while laughing out loud and reminiscing about growing up in the rural South.
Since it was the forth quawtah in the Mississippi State Game, and Auburn was getting bligernt, I was flat toe up. The book gave me a welcome escape from the whippin’ we were getting over in Bama.
I went inside and got my naff and sliced two may toes, slapped ’em on some lat braid and had myself a sammidge. Hayul with the diet. I might even get buck nekid and run down main street. If I warn’t in minner paws, I wud. But I can see them people riding by in thar vee hickuls starring at me.
I’d be critter sized at church tamar. I’m gonna go warsh up, wrench off, and just be glad I’m a Mississippi girl, and not a commonist from Rusher … or Chicargo, Illinoise.
The biggest surprise to me is that SNUK isn’t the past tense of SNEAK as in “I ain’t mad that Bubby Junior snuk Bueletta Junior out of the house last night. I’m mad because he brung her back.”
Well, Hayel. If snuk ant proper, it should be! What a great read and I added lots of new terms to my dictionary which is being compiled under the title “Fading Southern Expressions.”