Well, I'm from Dixie, too, apparently.

Ok. They got me on this one,




although *caramel* has three syllables, no question.
My dad stopped me once on that to correct me:
"No. That's what yankees say."

Oooo. Yank-kays.
I do declare, he said that.

(So I'm, what, 12 years old, and fortunately
he had to explain "yankee" to me.
Just skimmed along discriminatory in my opinion.
Twinge of irony all around. Then I asked,
"So what's the extra 'A' for then - for fun?"
"It's pronounced 'kar-muhl' down here. 'Karmuhl'..."
was the end of the discussion.)

So.
I started a 4-year war with him, shot and ate his horse,
scorched his peaches, pillaged his women,
and finally forced him into surrender
at Richmond and Durham.
But our last battle at Palmito Ranch
ironically ended in a Southern victory.

It's a classic toss-up,
y'all.

Enjoyyy.