Squawkin'

Lately, I have been trying to recollect some of the more colorful phrases my Appalachian kin used daily when I was a child. I am now seriously considering compiling these for posterity before they disappear into text messaging obscurity. Till then, here is a poem I smashed together using some of my favorite phrases from my Mammaw's peppered lexicon.

LORD HAVE MERCY

Shit fire
And forget the matches
Like piss
Pouring out of a boot.

He couldn’t drive
A billy goat.
Hear me?

Like cat fur
For kitten britches,
Messin’ and gommin’
Spoilt rotten.

They say
he ain’t done it,
but I figgered it
right.