"Southernisms" and the Southern Lady

I was born in Limestone Maine at Loring Airforce base, when I was 8 they moved me to Springfield Mo. The first day at school the teacher told me "Y'all has a 'peach problem" and sent me to the school speach thearapist, fortunatilly she reconized that I just had a bad accent. Now that I live in Florida all all them there northeners are hard to understand. :lol
 
Well, I've been following this thread with interest ever since Amy first posted it. And the true southern gentleman that I am, I have elected not to put my two cents in just yet.
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So ya'll just keep it cooking and stir it up real good like, cause then I'm gonna jump right smack dab in the middle of it with both feet.
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Then we gonna have us one of them old fashioned "Come To Jesus Meetings" about this and ParsonsWife will have to bail me out and help me pull both feet out of my big mouth.
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Here you go ya'll. A poem I wrote a few years back. Hope you enjoy it.

SUMMER IN THE SOUTH

Waterholes and tarzan swings,
Minnows nipping at everything.
A pick-up game in the corner lot,
No one wins, it got too hot.
Creek mud squishing between your toes,
Freckles popping out on your nose.
Hunting crawdads and big bullfrogs,
Looking for lizards in rotting logs.
Junebugs tied to a string,
Amazing colors of a butterfly wing.
Katydid's talking all through the night,
Minature flashbulbs, firefly lights.
Big and ugly plameto bugs, ick!
Clickity clack down the fence with as stick.
Ice cream dripping like falling rain,
A distant whistle, the 10 o'clock train.
Dime store candy in a bag,
Kick the can and capture the flag.
Grandpa teaching you to chew and spit,
Knowing Momma will have a fit!
Daddy tend the crops with strong hands,
Come harvest, Grandma puts it up in cans.
Silk turning brown on the corn,
Dirty feet, shoes are never worn.
'Mater sandwitch juices running down your chin,
That was good, do it again.
Music from the ice cream truck,
Playing in puddles like a duck.
Picnic suppers in the park,
Flashlight tag after dark.
Camping out under the stars,
How far away is Mars?
Stories around the campfire light,
May not get any sleep tonight.
Skipping stones across the lake,
Wondering how many hops it will make.
Getting soaked with the garden hose,
Smell the beauty of a rose.
Parade down Main St. on the 4th of July,
Being one of those who remembers why.
Watching thunderstorms as they rumble by,
Looking for a rainbow in the sky.
Spitting watermellon seeds from your mouth,
All just a part of summer in the south.
 
I used to live in Germany and there was this one man that I noticed just STARING at me. I said, excuse me sir, is there a problem, he said no, smiling, I just love the way you talk, I could listen to it all day.
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Gotto go, fixin' to feed the chickens.
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I moved to Oklahoma, from Louisiana, in 2005. Sometime later that year we had friends over that had been born and bred in Okie land and had never made a comment about my accent, they claimed I didn't have one. I took a call from my brother with the friends sitting on the couch. The longer I talked the wider their eyes got and the more they suppressed laughter.

As soon as I got off the phone they all died laughing. According to them, as soon as I said "Oh, hi Bubba!" my accent was in full, drawling, twangy force. And as soon as I hung up from him...it disappeared.

edited to add: My brother's name isn't Bubba, that is just what I call him. He calls me Sister.
 
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Maybe it's just me...but there ain't anything more sexy than a southern woman saying "Ya'll go to hellll"......I once asked a southern gal to say that to me.....really....she did too, but I'm not so sure it was cause I asked.
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This sorta thing happened to me at the Astrodome one time. I called my Aunt while I was there. When I finished and turned around there were about 6 sailors standing there listening to me. Yankees.... they asked me to repeat something,... don't remember what now.
 

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