The little black girl sits alone
As the other children laugh in a siniggering tone
She wispers to herself in dismay
"Is it always going to be this way?"
The boy who lives in the caravan
Wonders will it be the same when I'm a man
Why do they exlude me?
Is this the way it will always be?
The girl who does well in school
Wonders why her classmates are so cruel.
"Should I give in to them today
Or is it always going to be this way?"
I dropped my bike on the dusty pavement
And looked at the ramshackle caravan
I bit my lip and cautiously walked to the door
There I was met by a woman
She was a typical fortune-teller alright
Scarves, bangles and jewellery galore
A withered face with layers of make-up
She made me feel nervous so I looked at the floor
The lady barked, "What do you want?"
I stammered "I want my fortune read."
I put my hands in my grubby jeans.
She rolled her eyes to heaven
"Sorry, I only serve over eighteens."
Weird and unusual was how she was classed.
A new town, a new place
The same old way, the same old rules
Teenagers trying to be cool in their trendy clothes
Waiting their acceptance into the gang
But they, in a cell, would soon be bored
Hearing the same old news
Wearing the same trendy clothes
Does no-one want to scream?
Perhaps a few, but none would dare
In case of being given a stare
Yet, here she was, a colour against the rest
Shock, shock, horror, horror
And perhaps someday someone else will too.
Bring home the Sam
We'll be waiting with a place for it to stand
Three years ago, now once again,
The Sam is coming back
We know two kingdoms stand alone.
One is in heaven, the other our home.
Half time, our heads held high
Ten points to seven
What will the second half bring?
What a heartstopping match, fouteen all.
Our energy depleted
Our hearts still soar
The Sam will be brought home.