Put the Christ back into Christmas
The Islam back into Islamophobia
The bigot back into bigotry
The my back into myopia
Put the St. George back into the cross
Put the hat back into Santa
Put the race back into racism
Put the coke back into Fanta
Put the him back into hymns
Put the nation back into nationalism
Put the Christ back into Christmas
Put the Robinson back into prison
Peter The Homeless Santa
Plotted up outside the Little Tesco
We exchange the usual banter
But there’s not much room for a Ho, Ho, Ho
He’d be better off in a stable
But stable ain’t what he’s got
Peter The Homeless Santa
Is in his usual spot
Peter The Homeless Santa
Has a beard that’s not exactly white as snow
But it’s gone greyer quicker
Than an indoor beard would go
Peter The Homeless Santa
Is making a list, he’s checking it twice
A tenner would be lovely
A sandwich might be nice
He ain’t got a reindeer, he ain’t got a sleigh
He ain’t even got a safe place to stay
It might as well be Christmas every day
‘Cause every day’s the same on the streets
Peter The Homeless Santa
Gets a wave as people come and go
Some might stop for a few words
But he has no use for mistletoe
Peter The Homeless Santa
No stocking, no Christmas tree
Peter The Homeless Santa
Three missing pay checks could be you or me
He ain’t got a reindeer, he ain’t got a sleigh
He ain’t even got a safe place to stay
It might as well be Christmas every day
‘Cause every day’s the same on the streets
Every Christmas, Santa
Had a gift for me in his sack
So Outside Little Tesco
I try to give Santa a little back
He ain’t got a reindeer, he ain’t got a sleigh
He ain’t even got a safe place to stay
It might as well be Christmas every day
‘Cause every day’s the same on the streets
Mary
She pulled her shawl tighter around her
A mother should never have to outlive her child
Be there at the beginning and the end
She thought about her ex
A gentle man, good with his hands
Who never questioned her unexpected pregnancy
There’s nothing more working class, he’d laughed
Than giving birth in a barn
She pulled her shawl tighter around her
And remembered the starlight
The smell of fresh hay
And the warm comfort of the animals
On the day that he was born
Joseph
I’d have made a better job of that manger
He watched over his new-born son
One day, when he’s older
I’ll teach him to saw straight and to nail true
To value form as much as function
And be the master of his craft
But it wasn’t to be
They couldn’t survive the recriminations
Should they have kept him from the temple?
Who put those revolutionary ideas in his head?
He thought about her in the starlight
The smell of fresh hay
And the warm comfort of the animals
On the day that he was born
In the Evangelical Christmas Church
Baby Jesus lies in the rubble
In the square, fareless taxi drivers
Form a miserable huddle
In the Church of the Nativity
The grotto is eerily quiet
In Giacaman’s Christmas shop
There’s stock but no one to buy it
In Manger Square, no Christmas tree
As Gaza is brutally trampled
In Bethlehem, in the West Bank
Christmas has been cancelled
There’s a girl on a tinsel-clad donkey
Leading the Christmas Crusade
She sits on a Santa Claus blanket
The donkey looks mighty dismayed
Behind, a man rides a camel
Which really ain’t pleased to be here
Three more dressed like comedy Arabs
They seem full of seasonal cheer
A woman in a tinsel halo
Is she Gabriel in her white sheet?
One of the comedy Arabs
Has posh running shoes on his feet
Another carries a speaker
Through which no music is played
The true meaning is holding up traffic
It’s the Chingford Christmas Parade
Santa Is English
Christmas Bubble Trouble
Christmas With The Vulnerables
The Day They Cancelled Christmas
And the one cover version that we do every year:
*Lost in the mists of time is Steve singing Mary Had a Tory Baby. It went out live on a Punk 4 The Homeless live stream never to be seen again. If anyone has a copy, please let us know.
Barbara says it’s none of Nick’s business
Barbara says it’s her personal choice
Barbara’s ringing up the radio
Barbara says both sides need a voice
Barbara’s annoyed that Santa got the vaccine
Barbara’s mad at Tesco’s Christmas ad
Barbara’s ringing up the radio
Barbara thinks that we’ve all been had
Barbara doesn’t wear a seatbelt
Barbara doesn’t always turn the lights on
Barbara’s ringing up the radio
Barbara thinks that the science is wrong
Barbara’s careful what she puts in her body
Barbara’s ringing up to have a go
Barbara’s a bacon-eating anti-vaxxer
And Barbara’s ringing up the radio
We stream supporterless football
And pass punterless pubs
In tearful tiers
Over clubberless clubs
Now the variant’s British
And tranmission’s enhanced
Making quarantined skiers
Scarper home via France
The taxis are starving
Ambulances sated
Your Christmas tree’s wilted
And Santa’s deflated
We’ve got troublesome bubbles
With persistent coughs
While Boxing Day hunts
Ride with law-breaking toffs
“Christmas must be saved
Like St. Pauls, at all cost”
A spaffed exhaltation
Fingers firmly crossed
‘Tis the season to be
In tiers four, two and three
‘Tis the season to be
Jolly careful
It’s been a tough year for bands.
It’s been a tough year for everyone.
We hit some real form with great shows at What’s Cookin’ and The Birds Nest when the curtain unexpectedly fell in March. We girded our loins and learned how to fake a live-but-beaming-in-from-different-locations video, which served us well for a couple of online festivals (and a massive shout out is due here for Joe Solo, Matt Hill and Pete Yen for getting WSO Isolation Festival not only off the ground but out in front of anyone else hosting online festivals, including the big corporates).
As soon as the noose loosened a little, we started the occasional socially-distanced park meeting with instruments and shot our video for the, now online, Tolpuddle Martyrs’ Festival in a little-known Walthamstow beauty spot.
Slightly less restricted again, we were able to just about stay two metres apart in Steve’s house where we played a few online gigs, either live or pre-recorded, and took advantage of the fine summer weather to enjoy each other’s company in the garden over a drink or two.
But then London went from tier two to tier three to lockdown to tier three and now tier four. Face-to-face ain’t happening but undaunted while more than a little disappointed, we thought we’d find out just what we could do together in isolation. Although The debased street music of the vulgar was all recorded at Steve’s house, this track had to be recorded in five houses on equipment ranging from mobile phones to inexpensive USB interfaces, free software and, in some cases, our employer’s laptop (shh!).
So here it is, our Christmas gift to you. We hope you like it. Keep smiling, keep fighting, and we’ll see you in the flesh soon with any luck.
Solidarity, brothers and sisters!
Russ, Lol, Simon, Andi & Steve
P.S. Get your free download here.
Steve White & The Protest Family 