This is a poem from Barrie Smith encapsulating memories of the workers leaving the GWR factory down Rodbourne Road. If you want to get an impression of how it looked click on and scroll down to ID Number 472
Whining Hooter, thud of feet,
Men stream out to the quiet street.
Hustling bustling on their way,
Work is done for another day.
Tinkling bells as others ride,
Filling the road from side to side.
Like ants they swarm all around,
Puffing , panting, homeward bound.
Queues for buses quickly form,
Beating breasts keeps men warm.
Cries of “Adver” fill the air,
Drivers shouting in despair.
Flat capped workers old and young,
Cousins, brothers, Fathers, sons.
Frame erectors, boiler makers,
Fitters, turners, Vacuum breakers.
Foundry workers, millers, grinders,
Trimmers, painters, storeroom minders.
Collars raised against the cold,
Make their way down Rodbourne Road.
They filter into narrow streets,
Of terraced house trim and neat.
As one by one they reach their door,
Peace returns to the street once more.
News stands empty, crowds dispersed,
Daylight fades, no sound is heard.