Sister Monica Joan: I think it is the market that has changed the least.

The produce always marked the changing of the seasons, even during times of war.

I remember, some winters, there was nothing on these veg stalls except turnips and dried peas.

Mr.

Morris: All right, Sister?

Fancy a few bananas on the house?

My eyes are dimmer than once they were.

It is... Mr.

Morris, is it not?

Mr.

Morris: Who wants to know?

The old Bill?

[Laughing] The Sisters brought all of our kids into the world, but you delivered the first one and the last.

Which was a footling breech.

I recall that now.

My Mildred said afterwards, "Don't you ever charge her for bananas again."

How 'bout a few chrysanths, Sister?

Oh, thank you.

I don't deserve such generosity.

I'd let them be the judge of that.

♪ ♪ Sister Monica Joan: The flags beneath these wheels are worn quite smooth.

One thinks about the feet that made them so.

The brides... The mothers... The thousand infants brought to be baptised.

The mourners.

I see a few churches in my line of work.

I always reckon this one is the best.

Do you ever pray, Mr.

Mullucks?

I have felt the inclination once or twice.

I will be buried at the Mother House.

But I want my Requiem to take place here.

I am not only leaving this earth, Mr.

Mullucks.

I am leaving Poplar, and it is my home.