Archdruid: 'Appen as 'appen.
All: Aye, 'appen.
Archdruid: Hast seen their Ronald?
All: Aye, appen as might.
Hymn: On Ilkley Moor Baht 'at
|Three worshippers of the Ancient Yorkshire Gods await the End of the World according to the Prophet Bickerdyke|
Oh Great Earnshaw, forgive us if we have ever said the beer's better down south. Overlook it if we ever accidentally overpaid for something. Do not remember when we have spoken more than we needed. And let us off if we ever caused trouble at t' mill. And let us never doubt Geoffrey Boycott. And deliver us from ever going to London.
Billy Fisher: London? A man could lose himself in London, Mr Shadrack. Looooooose himself......
Charlii: Didn't you say that last year?
Billy Fisher: I'm from Yorkshire. It saves me buying another order of service.
Reading from the Prophet Bickerdyke
"Make a note Gunnershaw. The world will end at 17 minutes past 2, on Wednesday...... urghhh"
Norman Clegg: I'm glad today is Friday.
Archdruid: And Lammas Day, Norman. The day of the first loaf...
Wally Batty: Eeh, ah remember when I used to push t'bike up t'road to t'bakers to get a loaf of Hovis. Then I found out t'hill were in Dorset. Awful push that were.
St Geoffrey: Dorset? Tha were looky. I 'ad to push my bike - with no wheels - up the North Face o' t'Eiger, in a snowstorm, wearing a flat cap and clogs. And if you told Alistair Cook that, 'e wouldn't believe you.
St Geoffrey is beaten with sticks of rhubarb by a collection of grannies.
Hymn: Gradely is thy Faithfulness
The Hooter of Blessing sounds, and the Beaker Folk depart t'mill in silence.