Lost words still found in Arkansas

Old vernacular gets new love

A friend of mine, Ralph Williams, who is a fine attorney and even finer human being, recently sent me a note asking whether I recalled any of these "lost" words from childhood. I read the list and was bewildered. I wrote back and told him I had no idea those words had gone missing.

He responded that I was not that old. Naturally, this is the proper thing to say regardless of its veracity. Even God added an asterisk on the commandment not to fib. (*You may bear false witness about a woman's age and weight, and thereby testify in perpetuity that all women are no greater than 29 years and 110 pounds. Statements made to the contrary cause women to violate Commandment VI. -- Exodus 43:3)

While Barrister Williams has a fair number of years on me, I explained that it is of no matter. Folks tend to progress as fast as they can talk, and in my neck of the woods, that's as swift as a herd of turtles. I assured him that these so-called "lost" words can be heard on any given day in Clay County. It'd go something like this:

"Pete, you think ol' Ronnie'll bring that niece of his to the farm sale again this spring? That gal's full of moxie."

"Heavens to Mergatroyd, ain't she? Think she'll ever straighten up and fly right?"

"Hope not. Not for all the tea in China."

"Hey, Cletus, there goes Ronnie now 'round the square. Boy, I'd take a carbon copy of that old truck of his."

"You sound like a broken record, always wanting that old jalopy."

"You nincompoop, that ain't no jalopy. That truck is hunky dory."

"If that ain't a jalopy, I'll be a monkey's uncle."

"Well, you best get to climbin' trees then. If I had that truck, I'd be living the life of Riley."

"If you had that truck, you wouldn't take care of it like he does. Why, it'd leave you hung out to dry just like that third wife of yours."

"Oh, speakin' of, I gotta skedaddle. Your ex is makin' pot pie, and she sent me to town for peas near an hour ago."

"I declare, she's got you running more errands than Carter's got pills."

"I know, but it's my nickel and sure do like those pot pies. I'll see ya later, alligator."

"After 'while, crocodile."

Ralph, you can rest easy knowing those words are still swell. Until next time, I'll see you in the funny papers -- er, the Our Town section, okey dokey?

NAN Our Town on 02/28/2019

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