Flash your pass at the sensor and it responds With a blue light and two beeps, one short, one long Drag open the door and enter a cold chamber This is the world of the backup ranger
Humming and buzzing, droning and rumbling These machines work amidst much grumbling The normal procedure is to walk to the back Pull out the first little tape, it’s called a DAT
Then put it away in its hard plastic case And eject the next from its overnight place By pressing a button for it to unload It also must leave its transient abode
Then comes the time for the humungous whopper Containing slots by the hundred inside its hopper Slide open the door and will be laid bare How many tapes it’s released from its snare
Encase them all in their hard plastic shells And take them offsite for a well deserved spell Until once again they must be placed in their drives Thus is the rhythm of the backup tapes’ lives