Springtime in Norway
Best part was, I got paid to do this. In the spring of 1999 I was working for a British rock quarrying company, and they sent me to check out coastal sites in western Norway that could supply London by sea. I made good use of my weekends.
The clock approaches midnight, the sun’s orange rays still glow
Against the white-capped mountains as the fjords darken below
A kaleidoscope of blossoms breaking through the melting snow
Oh it’s springtime in Norway – springtime in Norway
One-lane roads that hug the cliffs for 50 miles or more
To brightly painted hamlets on the rocky deep-blue shore
Stopping every hour or so to get a ferry ‘cross a fjord
Oh I’m driving in Norway – it’s springtime in Norway
Roots of self-reliance turn up everywhere you go
Villages that had no road just 20 years ago
Historic homes reveal the unforgiving life of old
Before oil was found and millions suddenly began to flow
Drive a road until it ends, then trek a few miles more
In white, majestic clearings where the hawks and eagles soar
Surrounded by the mountains, and the norther’s gentle roar
Oh I’m knee-deep in Norway – it’s springtime in Norway
Climbing Preikestolen, two thousand metres high
My knees and quads are crying underneath the crisp blue sky
I reach the top and stare straight down the precipice, and I
Breathe the stillness of Norway – springtime in Norway
See it from the air and it looks like a different place
A vast snow-bound plateau with deep wedges gouged apace
The fingerprints of glaciers that once covered this whole space
And left behind a landscape with a rugged pristine face
(Repeat first verse)
