Bristol City

Bristol’s streets hum with a quiet pride,
Where the Avon winds past the old harbour’s tide.
Clifton’s suspension span arches high,
A steel‑threaded sigh against the sky.

Street‑art whispers on brick and stone,
Banksy’s ghosts in alleys lone.
The ss Great Britain rests in dock,
A timber‑clad dream that still can rock.

Market stalls roar with cheddar’s tang,
Cider flows where locals sang.
Night brings music from the lanes,
Jazz, bass, and folkloric refrains.

Oh, Bristol, you blend the old and new,
A harbour city, brave and true—
Where history sits beside the beat,
And every corner feels like home, sweet.