The time and date is:
2:44 am Friday, 20 October 2017
* Home

Sections
* Ballads
* Ballad Features
* Burns
* McGonagall
* Other Poetry
* Scottish Writers
* Scots Glossary

Poets
* Alphabetical List
* Featured List

Poems
* List of Topics

Songs
* Scottish Songs
* Modern Songs

Submissions
* Submit a Poem
* Submit a Song

Policies
* Copyright
* Permission
* Privacy
* Standards

Web Links
* Other Sites

Contact
* About Us
* E-mail Us

A Ghost of a Chance ©

Jim McRobert
Edinburgh, Scotland
2003

All through my life I've lived in Care
Often abused, my soul lying bare
Never did I hear an encouraging word
Words that were spoken did only disturb
Oh, it is terrible the pain that was felt
The beatings I often received from the belt
For hours and hours I cried in my room
No love did I feel, those walls were my tomb
For years I suffered with this pain in my life
And attempted to end it by the edge of a knife
The pain I felt within was the hardest to cope
It twisted my guts, my heart had no hope
So I grew up through this terrible life
Soon drink and drugs completed my strife
It was then that I sank deep in my pit
When sky seemed so black I needed a Hit
Along came someone who handled me well
Who offered me hope as I stumbled and fell
Who lifted me up and when I tried to cope
With bits of banter, sometimes a joke
And gradually I climbed from that terrible hole
Still lived on the streets, yes lived as a mole
Burrowing deep in those streets of the night
Hiding for places to shut out the light
Begging for that chance to just stay alive
Now I had hope, I had to survive
I grovelled, yes grovelled to be given the chance
To come out of the gutter, try to advance
To hold down a job not mattering what
A few pence in hand more often not
Yes, I saved. Oh, I saved to better myself
Handouts were taken straight from the shelf
Often I looked like a tramp in a field
No airs did I have, alive I did feel
Then I lost touch with my Samaritan friend
I hunted and hunted, it seemed like the end
But then I remember the words that he did say
When hope it was offered, I might need to pay
Now I have recovered from my years of Hell
With kids of my own this story I'll tell
I'll forget all the bitterness I felt in those years
A cuddle for them, some Love when there's tears
And I write to you now in the hope it will gel
With those children who live, by the ring of a bell
And to some of the kids who live on the street
Maybe one day someone kind you will meet
Who will offer you just once the gift of a glance
You just get it once, that ghost of a chance.


Web Site by IT-SERVE © 1999 - 2017 All Rights Reserved Return to top