“They’m stiff enough. They wasn’t set level.”
“They was as level as a billiard table, gaffer!”
“I could a’ shoved my finger underneath ’em.”
“I had ’em packed tight everywhere.”
“Then you didn’t have yer iron hot. ’Tis no good to arg’ the point. Take care wi’ the next lot, mind!”
“Let him go to hell! He’d make anybody a damn liar. Key out. Hang on to that spanner. Damp up, and shut the blower off. Fetch the iron trucks. We shall want some help to get these out o’ the way.”
“Billy, sing that song,
That good old song to me!”
“Now, Jacko! Give us a hand here.”
“I can’t. My leg’s bad.”
“That won’t hurt your leg, will it? I wants your hand, not your leg. ’Tis all in the gang.”