Might as Well, Can’t Dance

Hello, you have A Way with Words.

Hi, my name is Byron Navy. I’m calling from Florence, South Carolina.

And I had a question.

Growing up, I routinely heard my grandmother say this phrase, might as well, can’t dance.

And I thought it was just peculiar to her.

It’s like a rhetorical thing, like someone would say something obvious like, oh, it’s time to go to bed.

And someone would say, might as well, can’t dance, that sort of thing.

And I thought it was peculiar to her until I got out of the military and moved to South Carolina, met my wife, said it in front of her, and she says, my dad used to say that.

And he’s from down east South Carolina.

So, I mean, even though it’s only maybe five or six hours from where my grandmother grew up, it’s years away culturally.

And I thought, well, what in the world, man?

Where is this coming from?

And I’m hoping, I wanted to know for years if there was anything to this expression.

And I’m dying to know what you guys have to say.

We have plenty to say.

I love your enthusiasm.

And I also like the way you pronounce kaint, kaint dance.

Well, see, I think that’s part of the phrase.

I think you have to say it that way.

Well, at least one part of the country does.

Right.

That’s right.

Yeah, Brian, this is an expression that is fairly widespread, that might as well can’t dance.

And there’s even a longer version of it that goes, can’t dance, never could sing, and it’s too wet to plow.

Well, I’m just going to have to incorporate that now.

Yeah, I think you will.

I mean, and there’s actually an even longer version of this that goes, can’t dance, it’s too wet to plow, too dry to stack hay, too windy to pick rocks.

And anyway, granny’s got the motorcycle.

That’s great.

Well, all the more apropos being that my grandmother is the one that I learned it from.

So that’s great.

So she’s got the motorcycle.

That’s right.

Well, can I ask you a question about that?

Sure.

Yeah.

Is it regional?

I would say it’s probably associated with the South.

What would you say, Grant?

Yeah, I would agree with that.

It typically comes up in informal collections of Southern sayings.

But I wouldn’t put money on that because sometimes Southern sayings in these kinds of informal dictionaries really are just rural sayings where they’ve hung on to old roads of speech a little longer than the urban areas.

Right.

And that’s a really good point because that key part is can’t dance, never could sing, and it’s too wet to plow.

You know, that’s an echo of a time when work was so much more dependent on the weather than it is now.

You know, for farmers, if it’s wet, you can’t plow that wet field.

It’s just too much work and it forms a mess.

So, yeah, it’s a homespun phrase that, you know, probably had some roots in, so to speak.

In agriculture.

A farmer suddenly finds themselves with extra time because it’s raining.

So they might as well do whatever you’re suggesting.

And then they come out with this phrase, you know, because they’re putting the plan plowing off for another time.

I mentioned the South, but now that I think about it, I once saw an article in a small town paper in New York state.

And it was one of those sweet stories about a couple that’s been married for 60 years and, you know, the secrets of how they stayed married all that time.

But I remember that it describes the husband years ago popping the question, and his wife-to-be said something like, why not?

Can’t dance too wet to plow.

I guess so.

You’re the only one going.

Might as well.

I’ve got nothing else to do.

It reminds me of the synonym, which is, yup, I could sit still for that.

That is awesome.

Well, thank you guys so much.

That is great information.

My family’s going to love hearing that.

All right.

Well, Byron, thank you so much for your call.

Take care of yourself.

Oh, thank you.

I’m so excited to talk to you guys.

I’ve listened to you for years.

I love it.

Thank you so much.

Oh, great.

Call us again sometime.

Will do.

Will do.

Thank you.