I am a bus,
And without any fuss,
I travel to and fro,
Taking people where they want to go.
At every station,
I’m subject to the humiliation,
Of being told that I am just to slow.
Yet, I am sure my father Mr Benz,
Would be proud of how I’ve grown.
Also applaud the complexity of,
The computer that’s my brain.
Few know the strength and power,
Of the diesel that is my heart.
Combined these things make me go,
Taking people to and fro,
To destination’s I may not know,
And all without any fuss,
But to them, all I am is, the bus.