STRECKMANN
An' you're the devil's grandmother, I suppose. [He takes off his cockade and wipes the sweat from his forehead.] I tell you people I can't keep up with this: this kind o' work uses a man up skin and bones!—Hello, August! Good day to you, Rosie! Well, father Bernd—Great God, can't anybody answer?
HEINZEL
Let him be! Some people's better off than they can stand.
STRECKMANN
The Lord lets his own people have an easy time. A feller like me works and works and can't get ahead. [He has assumed a reclining position and squeezed himself between HEINZEL and KLEINERT. He now hands his whisky bottle to HEINZEL.] Let her go aroun'.
OLD MRS. GOLISCH
You live the best life of us all, Streckmann! What in Heaven's name has you to complain about? You drinks your drinks and makes three times over what we do—all for standin' by the machine a bit.
STRECKMANN
What I want is work for my brain. I got a head on me. That's what you bran-heads can't understand. Of course! What does an old woman know about that! An', anyhow—the trouble I got….