Nekkid as a jay bird

From David Carroll’s new book “Volunteer Bama Dawg.” Personally signed copies can be ordered by clicking HERE!

So far, I’ve written three stories about the Southern words and phrases I heard while growing up in the country. (You can read them here, here, and here.) Well, buckle up, Buttercup. You may want to sit a spell, bein’ as how folks have sent me some more. I figgered they would.

We used to get a lot of questions in our country store. Can I borry a tar arn? Got any chewin’ terbacker? I’m gettin’ a mite hungry, where ya keep yer balonee? Oh, here ’tis, if’d been a snake, it’d a-bit me! (Keep in mind, we made a lot of “samwitches” back then. There was no such thing as Mac-Donald’s.)

We asked questions too. At the gas pump, “Which kind ‘ya want? Ragler or high-test?” And if anyone made an appointment, we’d have to ask, “Are you on fast time or slow time?”

People would come in, looking for a plumbing part they couldn’t quite name. “You got sump’n ‘nother like this here doohickey?”

If a storm was approaching, you might hear your granny say, “Look out the winder! It’s comin’ up a cloud. I’m all tore up it’s scarin’ the hound out of me!” We’d tell her, “Don’t be a-feared of it, we need us a good frog choker, or maybe a toad strangler. We just don’t want a herrikan.”

Did you ever hear a momma complaining about her lazy son? “I’m so flustrated. That boy ain’t right. He don’t have a lick of sense. I thought I learned him better than that. He don’t care about diddly-squat. He’ll just lollygag all day. I’ll try to get him out of bed, and he’s deader’n four o-clock. He won’t hit a lick at a snake. He shouldn’t act that-away. I ought’a just smack him up side the head with a wet possum. I told him, if he ever gets a whoopin’ at school, he’ll get another’n at home.”

On the other hand, if there was a cute little girl nearby, someone would say, “They lawww! Sugarfoot, you shore are purty! Look at you in that yeller dress, sister! You’re growin’ like a weed. Goodness sakes alive, you’re cute as a bug’s ear!”

A Volkswagen was a doodle bug. You kept food cold in the Frigidair. It had a light bub inside that would go off when you shet the door. Smoke came out of the chimley. That part of your face between your eyes and your hairline was your fard (say it out loud). At the store, you put your groceries in a buggy (come to think of it, I still do). If you had put in a hard day’s work, you were tard and tuckered out, but you still had to arn your clothes for the next day.

These days, “Sup? means, “What’s up?” Back then, it meant we wanted a little drink.  As in, “Can I have a sup of your Nehi?” Today, we refer to a married woman as Mrs. Smith. Then, we called her “Miz-a-riz” Smith.  Now, you get a haircut.  When I was a kid, I got my ears lowered.  People buy kerosene now, but in those days, it was coal oil. Today, if someone is nude in public, we charge them with indecent exposure. In those days, we would laugh it off. “He’s nekkid as a jaybird!” Do tell?

Did you know a penny-pincher? “He’s tighter than Dick’s hat band.” Someone you’ve never met? “I wouldn’t know him from Adam.” Or even better, “I wouldn’t know him from Adam’s house cat.” Never mind that Dick might not own a hat, or Adam didn’t have a cat. We know what you mean. We’re not ignernt.

Speaking of animals and birds, we worked a lot of those into our favorite sayings.  “That dog won’t hunt.” “I’ve got a crow to pick with you.” “He’s as cute as a speckled pup.” “She’s madder than a wet hen.” “He’s as stubborn as a mule.” “He’s grinnin’ like a jackass eatin’ briars.” Well, this could go on ’til the cows come home.

If some guy was real upset, he’d get so riled up, he’d throw a conniption fit, especially if you egged him on.  If a woman was in pain, she would go to the doctor to see if it was rheumatiz, or just her arthur-itis flarin’ up. To be more pacific, it was just a crick in her neck. Supposably.

Some country families used to have a lots of kids. One day, the census taker was making the rounds. At one house, a man answered the door, and the census taker asked, “How many children do you have?” The man started rattling off their names, and kept on going for a while. The census taker interrupted him. “I don’t need names, just numbers.” The man paused and said, “Aw, we don’t use numbers. We ain’t run out of names yet.”

Well, I’m purt near done, I’ve gotta skee-daddle.  Be good, or the booger-man will get you!