The DLR is now 30 years old. We wrote this little poem to celebrate the best thing about it. The back seat.
The next train is for Woolwich Arsenal,
The tannoy helpfully yells,
So I scurry to the rear,
As commuters awkwardly leer,
But they don't understand you see,
The back seat of the DLR is for me.
The carriage is airy and empty,
Unlike the front with people aplenty,
There's no one else in sight,
So I sit upon the seat that is my plight,
You may scoff heartlessly,
But the back seat of the DLR is for me.
People in the front pretend they drive the train,
But those people struggle in vain,
For from behind I can see the world rush away,
A reminder of my escape from the city everyday,
I reverse out full of glee,
Because the back seat of the DLR is for me.
I ride a roller coaster of joy,
Away from all the hoi polloi,
Smugly watching those stuck on the platform,
As I'm all snug and warm,
I wave goodbye to Westferry,
And remember that the back seat of the DLR is for me.
Arriving at Poplar I shed a tear,
Here comes my ultimate fear,
I must lift my caboose and walk away,
There is nothing else to do or say,
So it happens slowly,
Painful because the backseat of the DLR is for me.
On the platform I stand and stare,
People gawp, I do not care,
Till we meet again,
So from the rear I can reign,
I leave ruefully
And say goodbye to my backseat mournfully.
