Based on Sweden 1993

Comrades in the thirties and forties group
Take your places please
I can see you all on my telescreen, yes I can
Morning exercises are crucial to every person’s health
I will show you a few, you’ll do them too
Let’s get ready, and one, and two
(ah ah ah ah ah ah owwww)
Oh don’t complain, no pain no gain

Let’s begin!
Bend and stretch those arms together
And you had best remember to do your best, or face my temper
Bread, stew, cheese
That is all you eat for dinner, yet you are all no thinner!
Or do you all drink too much Victory Gin?
Dear oh dear.

Now we’ll touch our toes
Over from the hips, don’t you bend those knees
Anyone your age should complete this well, uh-huh…
6079! Yes, Smith W! You bend lower please
You’re not trying a bit, and you’re unfit
To my orders you will submit
You’ll all end up in Room 101.

Sooo! Watch me, please
Thirty-nine and I’m a mother
One kid after another
And just like me they love Big Brother
There’s no reason to think I’ll let you slack off
And I am keeping track of the lazy ones
And I will tell the Thought Police
Yes indeed!

(boo-hoo-hoo, ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-owwww)
Keeping bending, keep stretching, for Oceania!

Well, I’m pleased that you understand I’m serious
Keep-fit makes me delirious
Now try again
That’s better now comrades!
Stand at ease.

Based on Italy 2018

Behind me there's a black shawl replacing trail of rainbow
Instead of the old pop tart, a sunken lonely sailboat
Unlike the other cats, though, I don't nyan in falsetto
My nyans are pure and formal, heartbreaking and immortal

My music's in the centre of every worthy genre
A cheerful tune ain't cool as my eight-bit saudade
I need some recognition, become a trending known star
So please become my agent, how soon then can I phone ya?

Now listen, cat, I'm sorry, you kind of have to earn it
Success ain't coming your way, even though you seem determined
Five years ago or sooner, acclaim of grumpy cats grew
But now the youth wants fun, and there's nothing fun about you

There's lots of awesome felines, my feed is full of cat clips
Compared to which the Nyan thing looks morose and geriatric
The trend's Maneki-neko, and cats who fear the toaster
No-one wants a Fado Nyan Cat

No-one wants a Fado Nyan Cat
No-one loves a sad old Nyan Cat
This is what I'm told in every country, every city, every planet
No-one wants a Fado Nyan Cat
No-one likes a good old nyan chant
I will do from now all that it costs to not be transparent

Why don't you hit the road, surely someone's sympathetic
There's no need to be scared, some people like authentic
I've heard, in Jászapáti, and in Nyíregyháza
Demand is pretty strong for respectable composers

Actually I've tried it, bitch you so don't know me
I flew to Budapest and went to sell them my skills
I thought they'd love to meet a new nyanning cat fadista
I said "helló, nyán" but they just said "viszlát"

No-one wants a Fado Nyan Cat
No-one loves you, sad old Nyan Cat
Altogether your clips have got ninety total views, and you should thank it
No-one wants a Fado Nyan Cat
No-one likes outdated nyan chants
If your Tube's got no lolz, then the crowds are not gonna share it

But when career goes belly-up, life has missed the target
There's one place every saddo can still be in the market
For them it's not immoral, and they're not picky, we know
About who's working for them, representing San Marino
Representing San Marino
Representing San Marino

*a prolonged melancholic nyan about a lover lost at sea*

New job found for Fado Nyan Cat
Europe meets its future Nyan Cat
I'll get jury love, old televoters would see a merit
San Marino's ready, Nyan Cat
They won't regret it, I swear it
Best result since ever, Nyan Cat
At least, their best one since Serhat

Back to square one, I'm afraid
The offer's gone, it turns out
They just gave it to another
A non-talent girl from Malta

Based on Montenegro 2018

Halloween is when I do
Every errand that’s accrued.
I can venture in the streets
To buy some ointment for my feet

They all think my cape’s fake.
No one’s taking out their stakes.
They’re just letting me go past,
As I run to get some gas.

Shopping trips and
Pay the bills and
To the blood bank.
No-one fears me-e-e!

No one likes a Dracula.
Usually attacking ya
When returning DVDs
To the Redbox that is down the street!

But when kids go trick or treat
No one notices my teeth
They won’t try to bludgeon me
When it’s Dress-Up-Like-A-Vampire day

But they only see a monster!
Am I me or just an imposter?

As dawn breaks, I’m all alone.
Costumed children have gone home.
In the mirror I can see
There’s nobody staring back at me.

No one in the crypt but me...
Shit! Forgot my groceries!
On the bus, I left them there!
I’ll go get them in another year…

Halloween, yeah!

Based on Moldova 2018

All your secrets have been sold
Your life story is pure gold
We stole your information
See, here’s your inventory
Of personality for online exploitation

Your social media settings grew confusing
Who knew their consent was implied?
That Facebook survey you thought looked amusing
It blew your defence open wide!

Now we’re here controlling all you read
We’re trolling what you see and what you do
Cognitive assessment made to look innocent
Datasets defining you

So long as we’re earning, we ain’t that discerning
Tyrants, cheats, please form a queue
Tell use your endeavour, why, what, whomsoever…
We will make your dream come true

**********

We’ll manipulate your views
Through a drip-feed of fake news
Designed to look sporadic
Think you’ll look the other way?
You’re too smart? Hmm… yeah, okay
Then *POWW!* an infographic…

If something sells you bet that we’ll misuse it
Our clientele stretches worldwide
We’re science geeks? Or an audacious con-trick?
You’ll never quite make up your mind

Number-crunching, polling
Auto-diagnosing how you’ll feel before you do
Rich man waved his plastic: Demagogue?
Fantastic! We can help you stage a coup!

All the time we’re learning
Swing states overturning from Wisconsin to Baku
Propaganda’s better when it’s made-to-measure
Your worst nightmares have come true

**********

[PRIVACY STATEMENT]
Rummaging around here… in your data
Any dirt we found we… saved for later
Loaded up into our… simulator
Not your data…

It’s OUR data

Based on Ireland 1971

You asked for a date
And I said “Listen, mate,
On the chart of sweethearts
I’m afraid you don’t rate.

You may laugh, here’s a graph,
Shows the best men of all
It’s a fact, true enough
You don’t feature at all.”

“Yes, I’m short and I’m grey
And I know I look weak
But I’m begging you, please,
will you give me a week?

I’ll be tough, mark my words
I’ll be brave without fear
Every day I will show
I’m the toughest round here.”

Monday, you went to the dentist
Wouldn’t be anaesthetised
Tuesday, the bees were all stinging you
You pushed your face in their hive

Wednesday, you bought red-hot chillies
Rubbed all the juice in your eyes
Thursday, a fight in the street late at night
And you finished up with two black eyes

You’d been brave, it was true
I was almost impressed
But suggested to you
That you give it a rest

But you felt on a roll
And you said you preferred
Being so tough, rough and tough
How very absurd

Friday, the weather was freezing
You ran outside in the buff
Saturday, spent the day screaming,
Grunting, and macho-like stuff

Sunday you swam in the ocean
Challenged a shark to a race
You didn’t laugh when it bit you in half
And devoured the smile off your face

How you tried, now you’ve died,
And you proved you had balls
But the tough guy lifestyle
Didn’t suit you at all

So a word for the wise
My advice to all men:
Don’t try to prove that you’re tough -
Pretend.

Based on Israel 2013

Life in an orphanage is less fun than it sounds
Dumped by one’s parents in a glorified dog pound
They feed us once a day a lukewarm bowl of slop
Made with hair clippings from the local barbershop

I need a home
My room’s so filthy a rat ate my toe
A crisp pack stuffed with a brick is my pillow
All night I’m kept awake by ghosts
Munchkin poltergeists lift my bed afloat

Please take me home
At my bat mitzvah the bats ate my scroll
The toilet’s teetering over a sinkhole
Last birthday I just got a box
And for Hanukkah eight new strains of pox

Some couples come here now and then to take my friends
There are some weeks where I’m the only foundling left
They say my sad-sack vibes are why I’ll never move
Whilst Pollyanna-types sell through the leaking roof

I need a home
My only toy was a stick till it broke
I had to share it with all the urchinfolk
My cane that time I had a stroke
I have never known hugs, just Sticky’s poke

Please take me home
My rags are horrid and torn, long passed on
More people died in my pants than at the Somme
At least in tears they’ve been well-washed
But their cloth makes me cough – it’s asbestos

“We’ll take the dumpy wailing whaleface over there”
Are words I dream I might still hear before I’m dead

I need to know
If there are shoes without newspaper soles
And taste milk not from the teats of roadkilled voles
I wash my face in a dog bowl
And spend all of my weekends mining coal

Please take me home
If I go on for too long still unsold
Someone might notice I’m 33 years old
So please take home this tragic tot
Or I’ll die in my nettle-fibre cot

Based on Spain 1986

Senit hid, feels unwell
Siegel’s gone, no more tunes to sell
Serhat’s now too well-known
Miodio won’t pick up the phone

San Marino
No-one’s left to sing our songs
Asked around the country
didn’t take too long

It’s hard now to believe we’ll be in Tel Aviv
And the population doesn’t give a toss
We could stay at home and it would be their loss

San Marino, San Marino

Thus ignored
Searched abroad
Carola? Too hard to control

San Marino needs someone to sing for free
Public television can’t afford your fee
Can there be an artist Europe might adore?
Best if you don’t dwell on what we’ve sent before

I know we’ve done some wrong
The Social Network Song
But our horrid past can always be set right
And we’ll contribute a little to your flight

San Marino, San Marino

Valenti…?

NO.

Based on Austria 2003

In a petting zoo in Tarrenz no one could quite explain
Why the cows would bleat like sheep and all the rabbits oinked and neighed (for shame)

The lambs all looked like turtles, the llamas were quite scaly
All the kangaroos had feathers and the goats – well, they mooed gaily

Although it seemed so odd, it happened for a reason
Every animal there shared the same sexy secret:

With the crowds gone they got their groove on
’Cause all the fondling just left them frothing
And all the petting just got them wet and
Soon after dark, orgies would start

Ooh!

All this inter-species cross-breeding, all this fauna-neutral lovin’
’Twas the whole pet zoo laughing in the face of evolution (and Darwin)

There’s no way it should work, you’d surely think, with biology and things
And yet, somehow, rules > window > fly when zoo friends choose to swing

With a little cock-a-doodlin’, a lot of shells a-rockin’
Fur and feathers flyin’ and all sorts of horns a-lockin’

Hours of cuddles and tickled arseholes
The endless clutching, intimate touching
It gets them horny. ‘Animal Pornfeed’
Is what to type for an insight

Pigs that fly and donkeys with duck down
Hee-hawing camels and mystery mammals
They all await you at Tarrenz Pet Zoo
In deepest, darkest Austria

Based on Ireland 2000

Endless smiles, lay’n beside, my well hung counterpart
A low brow start to our love story
He’d undress, so firm and hunky. I’d wear a blindfold
It’s time to play then

I’d been manhandled with the force of a cowherd
Bitter taste and moistness of his penis
Broken arse, on all fours, with truth and honesty
Bought ice cream in the park that night

Where he said that we should just be friends, I’m done
And he shook me with his heartless cruel demeanour
While my heart’s still burning, he hands back my underwear
Out of love, now a lonely dancer

The Cloud has me in tailspin
And Myspace can’t hide the pain
Search until I find the answer
[**anguished cry on sight of new Instagram post featuring ex flirting with an 8/10 on holidays **]
There is no reason
Who can understand man’s inhumanity to man?

I proclaim, well you can go to hell, have fun
May your shin splints form an abscess in your tibia
Though I’m not done yearning, my heart ain’t in disrepair
Now I see (Now I see), I am free, I am free of you

[**sashays forward with the confidence of a middle aged woman finally getting her moment on the big stage**]
Celebrate the end of the summer of love
Travel solo to the sunny shores of Syden
Somewhere on that journey, I recalled his thinning hair
Now I see, he was not the answer
Short, balding, narcissistic banker

Based on Finland 1965

Yeah, I’m the guy on the penny
Being on you would be swell
I’ve got a seven inch stove pipe
My hat is quite big as well

So how about fuckin’ Lincoln?
My Johnson’s one massive cock
How about fuckin’ Lincoln?
Come play with my Lincoln log

I’ve a libido that won’t stop
Drove my wife quite insane
So… fancy a piece of Lincoln?
I’m also turned on by pain

My south parts shall rise again
Four score sounds like an average weekend
So come get it on with Lincoln

[Bill Clinton sax solo]

I’ll give you head on a mountain
Mountin’ with me’s always ace
Now whip out your Mary todger
And shoot a load in my face

See my Gettysburg undressed
Contact my member of sex congress
I call him my Davy Crockett

Is that a gun in your pocket? ;)