BEKKELIA BLUES (©Words and Music by Paul F. Cowlan)

A loving tribute to my favourite Norwegian. A close friend, and as beautiful a dreamer as you’re ever likely to meet. You have been warned!


Up around the latitude of fifty-nine or so
there’s a lot of pretty woman and a lot of frozen snow,
but take my word, believe me ‘cos I know,
nobody compares with Miss B.

She can scoop your heart up like a strawberry out of cream,
find her way into your head every time you dream,
and she can make the stars appear brighter than they seemed to be.
That’s the way it is with Miss B.

If I was younger I’d be eating from her hand,
so if she stirs your hunger up, well, I can understand.
All those clichés, ‘Woman and a Man,’
They’re true for Miss B.

Ask them in Australia or in the U.S.A.,
the Highlands or the Netherlands or Italy today,
Britain, France or Germany, and they will answer, “Hey!
You must be talking about Miss B!”

But if you want to catch her, well, I wouldn’t hang around
because her pretty little feet hardly ever touch the ground,
and you’ll be running circles when she’s nowhere to be found.
Mercurial Miss B.

Long legs, long hair, pretty smile, arms bare.
Look into her eyes she will drive you to despair.
She’s so sweet that it just ain’t fair.
Delectable Miss B.

All affection is a matter of degree,
and there’s nothing you can do about it as far as I can see,
but loving her is easier than falling off a tree.
Adorable Miss B.

If she has a conscience she will put me in her prayers
and call me any time she has a kiss or two to spare.
I might be on the road, I might be anywhere,
But I’m always at home for Miss B.

B - I - A - N - C - A.
Uh-oh! What a giveaway!
If she hears this song what will she say?

Ingenuous Miss B.