Back then she was singing the blues,
In a smaller club where the sunset-
Splashed the walls in various hues,
On a plummy street called Somerset.
I was introduced to her backstage,
In that far away, long ago place,
Before she had become all the rage,
With her jet-setter's renowned face.
Her voice then was as liquid gold,
And eyes reflected the bright lights,
And her song a melancholy tale told,
Of her dream which had taken flight!
All motion in the club would cease,
Anytime the blue lady in red sang
Her beautiful, musical masterpiece,
In a voice which, like bells, rang!
Now, in the still of a pastel dawn,
My memories wander back to Somerset-
Of those happy, sun days quite gone,
And the blues song I cannot forget!