Carols for Bristol service in 2020 was a service put on by a broad range of Bristol churches and charities for the city of Bristol.

My spoken word piece, We are Bristol, can be viewed here.

Part 1

Part 2 (a blessing for our Bristol)

The text

We are Bristol and it’s Christmas
Maybe we should call it Bristmas
Or perhaps we’ll go for Christol
Glass with class; yeah that’s our Bristol

Though right now things aren’t so dandy
A crystal ball would come in handy
And while I hate to be a moaner
I am sick…of this corona

Why not just call it Christ-mess?
Cos covid has left us helpless
Politicians forced to confess
That raw Nature is the goddess

We fought the earth…and the earth won
We fought the earth and the earth won

Humankind is fighting this blind
We’ve been sent a kind of reminder
We are not gods, we battle odds
We all end up beneath the sods
Dear gods, dear gods, Dear God….

Dear God.

Could you come down here and meet us?
Cos without help this might beat us
Or anxiety will eat us
And God says…
There was that foetus

Oh boy, that boy. Oh boy…

That boy Jesus that was was carried
By that teenage girl not married
And to make things even harder
Her fiancé weren’t the father

But the thing, it was all legit
Cos the daddy was God’s Spirit
And yes we know that’s really odd
But try not to outthink God

Now you probably know the plotline
From your school when you were aged nine
There’s a stable, there’s a star
There’s a bloke called Balthasar
He was one of the three wise men
And the other two were called…Ken?
(At this point I am confessing
That for some of this I’m guessing)

But a few things I will get right
For example, Jesus weren’t white
Because he came from Palestine
Where they actually have some sunshine

And that stable stank of cow poo
And that manger was for cow food
And our Mary, you know maybe
Looked quite rough, she’d had a baby!

Then no sooner out the manger
Jesus’ life was in grave danger
Cos a crazy king called Herod
Was quite keen to see Jesus dead

So they fled to a new country
Yes, Jesus was a refugee
And life really weren’t so dandy
For the so-called Holy Family

Break.

What do you make of that?
What do you take from that?
What was at stake in that?

Now I’m sounding like a teacher
Cos I’m really keen to reach ya
With the message from this history
Which is really quite a mystery

That a God that made our planet
Decided that he would plan it
So he’d come down here and join us
Then he’d hang out with some joiners

And he’d end up nailed to woodwork
Cos he had a scheme that would work
He let death try to defeat him
Only for death to get beaten

Beat.
Crossed hands, crossed feet
Christmas: womb. Easter: tomb
But now risen from deathly room

A crazy plan, but pretty dope
Because this plan now gives us hope
Of love, of joy, of peace, of light
It’s hope of dawn in darkest night

It’s breath of God when we can’t breathe
He weeps beside us when we grieve
Yes Jesus wept, he knew our pain
But just like him, we’ll rise again

We are Bristol. And it’s Christmas
And the message is: God’s with us
Heaven‘s touch when life is hell
God with us, Emmanuel.

Part 2: A blessing for our Bristol

So now I’m nearly out of time
And I’m nearly out of rhyme
So let me finish this epistle
With some blessings for our Bristol

We speak hope to you Horfield,
Henbury, Hengrove, Harbourside
May God’s life spring in Hotwells
New each morning like its tide

We speak peace to you Clifton
Sitting pretty on the gorge
We speak faith to you Filwood
Lockleaze, Henleaze and St George

Don’t be down dear old Ashley
May you rise with Easton, son
Let new light fill your mourning
Southville, Stockwood, Brislington

Dearest Knowle at this Noel
May your every home be blessed
Let grace prevail up in Frome Vale
And in on-Trym, Bury (West)

Bishopsworth and Stoke Bishop
(And for full house, Bishopston)
Yes you mighta had dark times
But this battle will be won

Dear old Brentry, post a sentry
Guard your hearts from giving in
Hartcliffe good and Withywood
You battle too, but you will win

We speak joy to you Southmead
Hillfields, Redland and Eastville
Cotham’s buds will flower in floods
Then sail down to Windmill Hill

Avonmouth speak up boldly
Bedmin-stir yourself from sleep
Lawrence Hill, Lawrence Weston
Dry your eyes guys, do not weep

Whitchurch Park back to Central
Now our wardy words are done
We are Bristol, this is Christmas
This is hope in risen son.