A Sheffield Carol
Poems and Thoughts from the Anxious Poet
A Sheffield Carol
Crown him, crown him, ringing out,
silver notes and the songs of generations.
Faith in pubs, faith in landlords,
and Blake’s angels in Stannington’s boughs.
Villages kept this happy faith
when Churches turfed it out,
in favour of rule and rubric,
pride in a joyless redemption
from sins that didn’t bother god.
Crown him, crown him, singing out,
silver notes and the songs of generations.
Faith in graft, faith in workers,
and Blake’s angels in Bradfield’s boughs.
Buy your pints and find a seat
in the flocking crowds,
from child to ninety,
lyrics passed down
from homespun soul to soul.
Crown him, crown him, arcing up,
silver notes and the songs of generations.
Faith in love, faith in carers,
and Blake’s angels in Dungworth’s boughs.
Always the first two verses then the last,
as earthbound and seraphic
we join the swelling throng,
coddled in with cattle and
born to us from the forge.
Crown him, crown him, reaching up,
silver notes and the songs of generations.
Faith in hills, faith in walkers,
and Blake’s angels in Worrall’s boughs.
Walk home under Sheffield stars
and count your blessings
that you live in such a place
where carols come in pubs
and the child sleeps in the corner.
Crown him, crown him, blazing out,
silver notes and the songs of generations.
Faith in hearths, faith in welcome,
and Blake’s angels in Hillsborough’s boughs.
Every year as November ticks around we look forward with increasing anticipation to a uniquely Sheffield event. As I wrote in the final poem of A Sheffield Traipsing -
‘Don’t be above yourself; we sing carols in pubs not churches’ 1
In Sheffield during Advent, if you go to many of the pubs you will find a brass or silver band and a room full of enthusiastic folk, from teenagers to octogenarians all singing their hearts out. The carols too are different. As the tradfolk website tells us in its beginners guide to the Sheffield Carols.
‘The Sheffield Carols are, mostly, carols as they used to be. Which is to say, at a time before it was decided that the questionable Christian doctrine and folky heritage of these earlier, earthier carols didn’t belong in England’s increasingly pious churches. So, out went ‘Jacob’s Well’, ‘Mount Moriah’ and ‘Diadem’ and in came the, well, let’s be honest, somewhat dreary selection most of us sang at school.’ 2
You will be importuned to buy a book of the lyrics in aid of whichever band is playing in order for you to know some of the lesser known words to carols written in chapels and front rooms, in places like Underbank or Stannington. Then will ensue a fabulous two hours of joyous singing and banter - some of the carols are well known, of course, but the peculiarly Sheffield ones are rousing and everyone loves to belt them out. One of my favourites is Diadem.
O that with yonder sacred throng
We at His feet may fall,
We at His feet may fall;
Join in the everlasting song,
And crown Him, crown Him, crown Him, crown Him,
And crown Him Lord of all.
And crown Him Lord of all,
And crown Him Lord of all,
And crown Him Lord of all,
And crown Him Lord of all.
These have been made more well known by the Barnsley Songstress Kate Rusby. She learned them as a child in South Yorkshire and has made her Christmas show a must see for many. She sings Diadem on her album While Mortals Sleep.
I wanted to write a poem about this tradition for a couple of gigs we did in two Sheffield pubs this Christmas, the New Barracks Tavern and the Bath Hotel. My desire was for it to reflect both the joy of the occasions and the structure of the carols themselves. My poem received a very warm reception from the audiences and so I thought to celebrate the season of Christmastide I would post it here.
The wonderful thing about the Sheffield Carols in the pubs is that they make no doctrinal demands on those who sing. Just a desire to enter the magic of wintertide. The dark solstice when we, and our ancestors before us, kindled lights and celebrated the birth of a new child in a troubled world.
A merry Christmas and a happy new year from the Anxious Poet.
If you want to hear more listen to this from BBC Sounds https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m00261t6
From Afterword to a Traipsing available at https://adriangrscott.com/product/a-sheffield-traipsing/
Lovely. I wish the tradition of pub-singing existed in my area of Minnesota, USA.
Glorious Sir!