Boy, get ur granny a pawky pinch of sum tobaccee

 
   "Boy, get ur granny a pawky pinch of sum tobaccee"
   
   That southern-tongued sophistication, just put them in Faulkner's wardrobe--worked for Twain and Colonel Sanders, Twain before Faulkner, I reckon.  
   Mon cher, here's the Eucharistie, @ whatever prix.  
   And Bertha was putting butts in my mouth, with non-ignited cherry, when I was a timid toddler, waking up deep in the Confederacy, given many corn cob pipes before the age of six, for Popeye and the iron source of spinach were BIG at the moment.  
   I asked the fishermen at the park:  "Where did you get that fish, fine sirs?"  One utters:  "Boy, I brought it here."  I believed him, till I got home and drank a beer, finding common sense in the harvest of benign wheat, if there is such a thing.