One night, when I was a kid, just as it were coming dark, I was walking through the graveyard between Previdence Lane and Dock Royd in Oakworth when I heard the sound of a hammer on a mason's chisel. Being a nosey little bugger I had to go and see what was going on. There at the front of a new headstone was a little greyish fella, bent double, hammering away and altering the inscription. "What's tha doin'?" I asked. Without turning round or looking up he replied, "Them gormless buggers 'ave spelt me name wrong."
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