Edge Lane Tramsheds
Remember Edge Lane tramsheds,
Where trams trundle through the gate,
When their shift had ended.
Those going to Town would wait
While driver and the clippie left,
And we got another crew.
We sat there with our heads turned
To stare out at the view.
A smashin’ building that was;
Red brick and yellow stone.
When we stopped there coming back,
That was half-way home.
Can you hear the grinding screech
As the wheels turned in the lines?
See the trolley’s bright blue spark,
And the motor’s droning whines?
When I heard of it’s demise
It really made me frown
I’d like to meet the brainless jerk
Who went and pulled it down.
By Jean Neale