Taking A Stand: Southern drawl sounds OK to me
I don’t know about you, but I like the way we talk down here in Tennessee. It’s the rest of the country that has the weird accent.
If you venture outside the South, you’ll soon find out people will look at you like you have webbed feet and are married to your first cousin once you open your mouth. For some reason, our southern drawl has been associated with shoeless, outhouse-using, no-teeth-having people by much of the “enlightened” masses who have the misfortune to live outside the South. It’s quite the contrary actually, since our slower brand of talking allows us to successfully communicate with one another.
Frankly, I wuldn’t have it any udder way, seein’ at least down South, I can unerstan’ what folks are sayin’. Hey, I’ve got kin livin’ up North, an when they come down here in dare overloaded Oldsmobiles and start talkin’, I’ve gotta have an interpriter to unerstan’ what they’re sayin’. I mean, they talk a mile a minute, burpin’ out more words than the mouth was s’pose to hanle. If they’d slow down a bit, maybe they’d be able to unerstan what they’re sayin’ like we do down here.
When it comes to talkin’, the South is way ahead of da rest of da wurl since we’ve ‘liminated the furine influence that’s messed up the American language. For insance, we’ve gotten ridda that stupid “g” on da end of everythin’. Who needsa “g” anyways. Itsa waste a space and enurgy jus’ ta say it. We’ve also got ridda a lot of them consanence which jus make wurds longer than they should be. An, as fer them silen’ leders, jus leddum stay silen’, cause they ain’t no need fer um. That’s why they’re silen’ inda furs’ place. Matter a fac’, just ged ridofem all tagether cause I can’t ‘member when ta use ’em ina wurd anyways.
And before you ast, the wurd “y’all” is not only a part of the southern language, it’s required if you’re gonna fit in down here. And the word “yens” is not furine money, it’s just another conjagashon of da wurd “y’all”. And yes, the plurule of gravel is gravels and da wurd wasper duz dascribe them flyin’ bugs dat’ll bitecha.
Bein’ we have our own branda talkin’ down ‘ere, it’s easy ta spot da new folks when they come sashain’ in with dare fancy talkin’.
Walk inta a place an start sayin’ stuff like “you fellows” an it’s apparen’ you ain’t from ’roundere. And they’re ain’t no such thing as “pop”. The only time da wurd “pop” should be use down ‘ear is fore the wurd “popsickle” or in da fraze “I’m gonna pop you inda mouff”, which ‘feredly is followed by “I’m ’bout to openupacan on ya.”
Now, fore ya start gettin’ on me, sayin’ I’m makin’ funna suthern talk, let me poin’ out I was born and raised righ’ here in Warren Couny, jus off da Bypass in the cidy of MacMinnvulle. An, even as I’m writin’ dis story, I’m soundin’ it out and it’s rollin’ jus righ’ of my tung. The way you’re readin’ it is da way we, or ad leas’ I, talk and there ain’t nuthin wron’ widit.
So, does da fac’ I talk like dis make me anymore likely to murry oneummy my cusins’? Nah. Some of ’em sure are purdy, but I ain’t gonna marry any of ’em. My momma’d have a cow.
Jus’ ra’member, da way ya talk don’t make a hillabeans ’bout how smart ya are. Somma the dummest folks I ever met talked in bigole wurds, an in perfect English grammar, but their yappin’ didn’t makin a licka sense. Sure did soun’ purdy, but it didn’ change da fac’ they were still dummer then a rock.
(Duane Sherrill is a reporter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].)