The Liquidator is here … slow up lads, it’s all over … the machines falter … the erratic whine of starved machines … what does it matter … who gives a damn … you can slacken up men, the liquidator is here … off tonight … tonight’s the night … the street corner for you now, Shorty … the street corner tomorrow … and the tramp and the tramp … full up here, son … full up here, girlie … and the tramp and the tramp … Oh lovely Mrs Bourke … Rene, Rene, I am surprised at you … take it easy girls … talk as much as you like … Oh lovely Mrs Bourke … I have got you a job, Rene, don’t cry … yes Mr McCormack … oh do that … do that Mr McCormack … just before we knock off we’ll drink it … a dozen beer … yes Mr McCormack … Mr McCormack’s going to shout … the liquidator is here, who cares … every man except the executives will cease work tonight, see that your machines are in working order … yes, sir … I’d like to see Bert smack my behind today … have you heard this one … don’t laugh so loud … but listen to this … the belt’s off the pulley … leave it, Sadie … come over here, Saide … Ron’s calling you, Sadie … we’re going to have a spot before we go, Mabel … in the cleaning room after … I’m giving system B a fly for a couple of months … there’s nothing doing in the trade, Tom … my boy’s got a job, thank God, but mum says … Gawd, I swallowed a tack laughing … oh give me a home, thump, where the buffalo roam, thump, and the deer and the antelope play, thumpthump … the big press crashes cords … through the dust the voice … the antelope play … leisured steps between racks … when the blue of the night … the Consol Laster’s swan song … Rumble the joyful racks … spit up the dust of years … the sun is shining outside … the trouble is I only have a fiver and Rose is expecting … meets the gold of your tiair … I’ve got the wind up, Mr Clynes, s’elp me God I ‘ave … the liquidator has grey, curly hair … no wages will be paid tonight, each employee will be notified when their pay is available … we’ve broken this office’s heart, Miss Trueman, just look r ound … put all the books in my car, Mr McCormack … the Factory sobs and sobs … the noise breaks, then jerks away … a hopeless crying for the rhythm of a thousand pairs a day … Blue Henderson died for it … Clarkson gambled because of it … Clynes lost self-respect for it … and Correll, Shorty, Bert, and Ron Hughes … Mabel, Sadie, Leila, and Fanny … the output must be kept up at all costs … the factory sobs and sobs … My baby that I lost … it’s when you’re sad you want a woman … it’s the bloody system makes me fill my lunch-bag in the store room … I’ll chance that fellow in the car … put a hot plate on your stomach … here’s a roughy … the rhythm of a thousand pairs a day …
The liquidator is here … oh give me a home where the buffalo roam … Mr McCormack has got the beer … you can knock off half an hour earlier, men … Oh lovely Mrs Bourke … pull up the benches, Fanny … lend a hand, Rene … switch off the power, Martin … my little girl, she was in a lather of sweat all night … turn off the current … a last thump … a last clatter … a last scream … a last clackety-clack … the fading shout of thwarted metal … down stairs … grab your bags … will I take this old jumper … what will I do with these slippers … don’t push, Shorty, the stairs are greasy … they’re all here … Miss Trueman’s here … Miss Trueman’s not a snob … Mr McCormack’s here … tins, pannikins, anything will do … fill ’em up … look out, it’s spilling … I can’t stop laughing … aren’t I awful … I’ve never tasted beer before … but today’s different … isn’t the Factory still … everybody got a cup? … here’s to the bottom … good luck … a new job … to you, Mr McCormack … to you, Sadie … and you, Leila … and you, Mabel … and again … here’s luck … don’t worry about jobs … make a ring … catch hands, everybody … hold mine, Mr McCormack … I’ll hold you up, Mr McCormack … we won’t put you over, Mr McCormack … rest you crutch against my foot, Mr Cormack, it won’t slip … you won’t fall over … Should auld acquaintance be forgot … Clynes has tears in his eyes … good Mr Clynes … I like him … I like Correll … I like Miss Trueman … I like Mr McCormack … and never brought to mind … swing it, girls … they only did what they had to do … good Mr Clynes … should auld acquaintance be forgot … I like everybody … they are my cobbers … I have worked with my cobbers on machines … in the days of auld lang syne … now, all together … swing it, lads … my cobbers that I love … for auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne … cobbers … we’ll take a cup of kindness yet … I’ll never forget them … in the days of auld lang syne.. hip, hip, hurrah … hip, hip, hurrah … hip, hip, hurrah …
The accountant gave a last glance round the office. Miss Trueman, standing beside him, looked steadily at her table. They moved to the door. The accountant turned impulsively and raised his hand in a farewell salute to the Duke of Gloucester. They stepped on to the street.