You could chase a bear with a buggy whip!

When I first moved to Nova Scotia, I discovered that I had apparently moved to “the South Shore“.

You see, the ocean side of Nova Scotia is essentially divided into two areas: the South Shore, which runs from Halifax down the coast to Yarmouth, and the Eastern Shore which runs up the coast to Canso. Amusingly, to get to the Eastern Shore from the South Shore, you drive north through Halifax and Dartmouth.

Here’s a satellite shot that might make this clearer.

Nova Scotia context image

The red dot is Halifax, the yellow dot over at the left is Boston. The two shores are labelled.

Anyway, as I was saying, I found that I had moved to the South ShoreWell, apparently “barely” on the South Shore by local standards–the area I live in used to be firmly physchologically within the bounds of the South Shore, but now Halifax has grown out this way enough that even though we’re in the woods outside of town, we’re considered “city”..

The same day that it was first explained to me that I lived on the South Shore, I later saw a book for sale: The South Shore Phrasebook.

Now, I’ve always been interested in words and phrasing–whether it’s slang, jargon, cryptolects, or the idiomatic speech of a region, I find these things fascinating, so I was probably going to pick up the book anyway, but here’s the text that was on the back:

I’ll tow that one alongside for a bit before I bring it aboard — an expression from Barrington Head to express doubt concerning the truth or reliability of something someone has said.
layin’ — the difference between layin’ and settin’ has been explained as follows: if the object is useless, it’s just LAYIN’ there; if you’ve put it out to use again, it’s SETTIN’.
that’s good enough for the girl I go with — traditional way to say that something is satisfying or adequate — Cape Sable Island.
heel-spoon — a shoehorn — Blanche.
if you kill one, fifty more come to his funeral — said of black-flies in early summer.
you could chase a bear with a buggy whip — after an old-time meal of pickled, smoked moosemeat, fried with onions, potatoes, homemade bread.

Even if I wasn’t already interested, that first item would have locked the sale. “I’ll tow that one alongside for a bit before I bring it aboard”. Man. You couldn’t make that up.

Here’s the first three entries in the book:

able strong, capable, courageous. “A fellow beat up three Mounties in Prince Edward Island. He was some Jesus able, you!” — Port Medway. A woman, too, may be able: See Marilyn MacDonald’s column in Atlantic Insight, June, 1980. The use of this word is listed by the Oxford English Dictionary as “obsolete,” with the meaning “having general physical strength, strong, vigorous, powerful.” Gordon Raisbeck of Portland, Me., and Cape Negro, N.S., has suggested that the origin of this term is probably the term for a seaman who has passed his apprenticeship (Ordinary Seaman — O.S.) and become a full-fledged sailor (Able Bodied Seaman — A.B.).

aboard — to “go aboard of’ someone is to be aggressively angry with him. “I’ll fly aboard o’ye and dance a jig on yer palate” is a Cape Sable Island elaboration of this phrase. Ruth C. Lewis in an essay “Why Did You Say That?”” on the antiquity of Barrington area English, defines it as “scolding” and cites its use in nineteenth century New England and in Shakespeare (in The Taming of the Shrew, “I’ll board her, though she chide as loud as thunder”). In the lines from Shakespeare, I suspect a multiple pun on the word, with sexual connotations, but the primary meaning is the same as in today’s Cape Island use. In Blanche, Shelburne County, a man said to me, “I gave the dog a bone, and in a couple of seconds she was going aboard of that,” using it to mean any vigorous, aggressive behaviour. This expression has of course had wide nautical use for a long time, in the phrase “to go aboard a ship,” but its old meaning seems likely derived from the pirate of man-o-war’s crews “boarding” a vessel attacked.

across the bridge to Dartmouth — a way of describing something that would drive one crazy: “That would drive me across the bridge to Dartmouth,” or “They’d have to take me across the bridge to Dartmouth,” which, in a figure of speech not complimentary to Halifax’s twin city, must say something known to everyone but unsaid about this residential harbourside place. Dartmouth does take its undue share of insulting jokes. One such: “Parks?, Well, you can go to Point Pleasant in Halifax, or any number of industrial parks in Dartmouth!” The primary meaning, however, probably refers to the location in Dartmouth of the Nova Scotia Hospital, where one is taken if one really loses all control.

Can you imagine the conversation?

“Did you hear about young Arsenault? He beat up three Mounties in Prince Edward Island and left them layin’ there. He was some Jesus able, you!”
“An Arsenault who was worth anything in a scrap? I’ll tow that one alongside for a bit before I bring it aboard.”
“Are you doubting my word? You better not be, or I’ll fly aboard o’ye and dance a jig on yer palate!”
“Oh calm down. It’s not worth going across the bridge to Dartmouth for.”

Heh.

Apparently I’ve been talking to the wrong people, since I never hear anything this great in casual conversation.

Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.5 Canada
This work by Chris McLaren is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.5 Canada.