Based on Slovakia 1994

Thirteen months ago when damn,
The chance to dominate
Has somehow not gone Elán's way
Put, a gospel group from Split
Instead went to Millstreet
But there's no shred of grudge we hold
When Tony and his queens
Are the best Ex-Yugo act since when?
Aska?

Not certified musicians
So just vote as we say
For Nek' Ti Bude Ljubav Sva, Sva, Sva
No other entry comes this far

Them incredible Maltese
Have sent a gorgeous hit
Accomplished by a true star team
Just superb poetic wit
The greatest since Tolstoy
Presented in a neat routine
Yet unsatisfied with them?
As duos go, the others are quite weak
(CatCat...)

Have an unbiased listen
And then please give your ten
To the girl with the face of star, star, star
And to the dude with the guitar

Oh:

If asked by Mr. Clausen
About our voting ways
Deny you've ever seen this draft, draft, draft
Not that there's any wrong with that

* * *

Few points and dreadful placing
Maybe we were rubbish live
Ah well, Croatia's promised
Twelve back in ninety-five

Based on Slovenia 1998

Been in love, for many years
She knew my hopes, knew my fears
But the power deep inside
was something that I could not confide

Then she used her female charm (such female charm)
Ignored my inner alarm (mind the alarm)
Did not know how to resist
Now I'm locked in a cell, what a twist

Please, I beg, don't cut my hair
All my power's there
You betrayed me
I thought we would get hitched
Delilah, you're a bitch

Sold me to the Philistines
They're coming for my head, I'm in tears

Please, I beg, don't cut my hair
All my power's there
You betrayed me
Oh, I don't get the switch…

Oh… (For God's sake, don't cut his hair)
Why ay ay ay ay ay ay
(All his power's there) My power's there
You betrayed me
Turned out to be a snitch
Delilah, you're a bitch

Delilah, you're a bitch

Based on Luxembourg 1956 (1)

Here at BBC headquarters ESC’s not our forte
Our last 12 points came from Prussia, our last win was in Pompeii
No-one wants to be our singer, Vera Lynn said no thank you
Right Said Fred said, “Sure, we’re keen… but we must wash our hair till June”

Oh we asked all the stars, Peter Andre’s behind bars
The ugly one from S Club got a new job at a pub

Then we thought we’d found a Nolan – was the one who doesn’t sing
Called Martine McCutcheon’s granny but she let her phone just ring
Then Adele gave us a yes and in our knickers we all pissed
“Adele Scunt, I work at Boots” – we moved her to the maybe list

Oh we asked all the stars, Mr Blobby was aghast
We even asked every class at St Winifred’s, all passed

So we went back, asked the Allisons nicely if they’d died yet
Sadly one had and, “Over my *#&©%#@ corpse!” live one said
Asked, “Are you sure?” – he hung up, my thought bulb though was now lit
Would it be so wrong if we dug dead one up for a bit?

So we traipsed down to the churchyard and we took apart his grave
Took the corpse back up to Salford, Pollyfilla’d the decay
Gave him lovely brand new eyeballs – ping pong balls on which we drew
We don’t have Moldova’s budget but he looks as good as new

Prop him up, prop him up, folk in Spain’ll never know
Just prop him up, prop him up, hope the rotting doesn’t show

Necropop, necropop, necropop

It’s the BBC’s last hope

Based on Slovenia 2010

Our love (like a, lovewave) surpasses borders

They say (qélé, qélé) that we are starcrossed

As day after day we, face the dismay in

Nagorno and Karabakh

My name's Mariam and I'm Armenian

Living here I'm one of 95 percent

Look I am Azeri, Oskar is my name

My dad was sent here by his boss Aliyev

From the first time that ever I saw him

We just knew we'd always be together

Our love (do not, deny) defies all orders

Amour (nor par, sister) that comes at a great cost

We won't be dissuaded, so mostly unaided

Formulated our own plot

So on Tuesday evening, with my parents out

I'll fly from my window, use a parachute

And while she's escaping, I will play my part

As I rob my father's favourite horse

We'll ride off to live our fantasy yeah

In a hut just outside of Urmia

This cold (windy, qami) September evening

When we (soon he'll, hold me) execute our plot

The hour is upon us, I've climbed onto my dad's horse

"Mariam, my apricot!"

(escape scene shambles ensues)

My chute (harpooned, boom boom) has caught a tree branch

I hang (without, my love), still 12 feet off the ground

Horse, scared, has stopped running, it's nightfall, we need a

Miracle to heal this plot

Oh no (lonely, alone), this thing is ripping

Where's he (her moon, come soon!) save me from this drop

I ran here my princess, I'm right underneath you

No don't let go of that log!!!

Based on Sweden 1996

Starlight o’er frost-covered mountains

Two lovers are kissing

Footprints on snow-laden pathways

Another approaching

A festive meal they were eating

Three knocks on the window of their forest lodge

He knew truth would reveal all

Seeing his wife there on Midwinter’s Night

 

With purpose

She probed his excuses

“But who are you kidding?”

“Not love but lust was your reason”

“We look like we’re sisters”

“For I could bear you no children”

“You courted a mother and her three young ones”

“Told her you, too, were widowed”

Dizzy, his breath slowed on Midwinter’s Night

 

(Winter... Midwinter... Winter...)

 

“Online, we met in a forum”

“For loved ones of those with problems cardiac”

“Our solace froze as two broken hearts”

They hatched a cold plan on Spring Equinox

 

“Tasty, the pudding she made you”

“Which she called a Stollen”

“Last night, the biscuits we fed on…”

“Exotic, the flavour”

“Those spices, on their own harmless”

“Together, a dance to turn your blood to ice”

Justice, cloaked in a teardrop

“Here we will leave you on Midwinter’s Night”

 

Alone, slept he for three days

Learnt he, his lesson on Midwinter’s Night

Based on Greece 1981

I don't know how to ride a bike
A bicycle, you got that right
My legs go fuzzy, go on strike
They'd much prefer taking a hike

Silly, some people don't believe
That I'm still not able to achieve
What kids can do, they've got technique
While I've got training wheels at thirtythree

I don't know how to ride a bike
No balance, it is quite the sight
I must've tried a thousand times
It's time to quit, give up the fight

*cries*

My girl proposed a city trip
"Want to see Utrecht?" - is she sick?
Can't stay upright in spinnin' class
The land of biking is too much to ask!

I don't know how to ride a bike
I'll never know what it is like
I'll buy myself a tricycle
Laugh all you want, don't care at all

Based on Portugal 1997

Everything I say has a subtext
Everything I say is quite complex
Everything I say is about sex
So says my new shrink, he’s called Dr Freud, so, er...

I talk ’bout my dad    (“We’re in love with our own fathers”)
I don’t mean to    (“Cos such feelings are forbidden”)
Every ex I’ve had    (“Daddy’s face in every lover”)
Seems they’re him, too    (“Every cock you’ve ever ridden”)
Surely that’s quite bad    (“We’ve not started on your brothers”)
And obscene, too    (“Filial love is often hidden”)
When I ask him why    (“We must always blame our mothers”)
He can’t look me in the eye

His words confuse me. Wouldn’t say I’m sold
That every boy I see I’m putting daddy in my hole
None of this is my fault. I ask ’bout my role
Too soon – Dr Freud says there’s so much more…

’Parently my mouth’s    (“Everything we swallow’s phallic”)
Mum’s vagina    (“Every mouthful’s daddy’s spawn”)
When I suck a dick    (“Mother-daughter bonds are Sapphic”)
It’s to spite her    (“Every woman is a whore”)
She deserves our shame    (“Oedipean castigation”)
Not desire    (“The reverse of penis envy”)
Says the Book of Freud    (“Psychosexual masturbation”)
He might have a point, but…

I think he’s confused. I came so I could try to
Start treating a fear that’s been haunting me since childhood
But he drones on ’bout sex, Greek love and fancying dad
Sure puts ‘anal’ in ‘psychoanalyse’

I don’t understand who all of this applies to
Since incest and dicks have fuck-all to do with darkness
For that’s my fear – not sex or cocks or channelling mum
But Freud, he sees cocks god damn everywhere

Except in himself – he’s a cock, too

Based on Portugal 1991 [live version]

Dawnlight kisses the Niagara Falls
Sunlight caresses me with its arms
Sunset! So quick did this day come to end

All to start the greatest journey that we had planned

But‐‐
I stand here on my own

Yes it’s marvellous beholding
This majestic holiday you designed

For me: See your Athabascan home
And begin our new tomorrow

That now cannot come to be

Tell me
Why could I not see‐‐
Why you needed to conceal‐‐

Inside you‐‐

The most darkest shade of grey

Unsaid
Are the vows that we both wrote

Unworn
Is a dress of lace in white

Mmm, timeworn?
So, was that the weight you felt?

Did I add to pressure on you? Was it my fault?

Hush‐‐
Thoughts cascading in my head

I must carry on regardless
Of this aching emptiness in my mind

For now, I shall say a last goodbye
And begin a new tomorrow
On my own yet not alone

That day‐‐
And the news I had to say‐‐
Your hands were colder than ice‐‐

Unheard whispers
I sing loud to you:

There’s a spark of you and me

Her Light shines from
Inside me‐‐

To brighten

The most darkest
shade of grey

Based on Finland 1985

Where do you stand on fur? I simply can't live without.
I'm talking 'bout the exclusive kind,
no cheap cliché like a sheep or a cow.
Gimme exquisite fur, the type that screams to be touched.
I'm thinking polar bear or a tiger,
no nothing is ever too much!

Want a coat, want a coat of fur!
Elegant animals really can make me purr.
Soft and delicate, fluffy fleecy animal fur.
Want a stola from soft koala.
A sophisticated bra that puts the bra in zebra,
and a hat and some gloves, straight from the neck of a giraffe.

I am crazy 'bout fur, no matter how you protest.
Can see the shimmering in your eyes,
don't say you don't want my gorilla vest.
I never go to the zoo, it simply drives me cuckoo.
Cause all I see there is living clothing,
and maybe some furnishings too.

Want a coat, want a coat of fur!
Got my eyes on the prize and the rest is a blur.
Soft and delicate, tender velvet animal fur!
Want a jumpsuit from giant panda.
Got an evening gown that's covered in lovely jaguar.
For the next set I think I'll order a gorgeous cheetah.

Know exactly now what I want:
101 Dalmatians!

Want a coat, want a coat of fur!
And I’ll get them myself, I’m an entrepreneur.
Soft and delicate, squishy mushy animal fur.
If you think that I'm going too far,
then get out of my face quickly, I don't need your blabla.
You're as bad as those flowerfucking hippies from PETA!

Based on Croatia 2003

Ah ah
There are times in life you must get from A to B
To go home, to go out, or to visit somebody

And at these times, you may wish to enlist
someone who can assist, you with your travel
If you're tired, drunk or feeling lazy
they will use their vehicle to drive you there

Taxi, Lyft or Uber, all work for your trip needs
If you want one, just download the app
Offering their service, in exchange for money,
Drivers come to where you are, and take you where you want
then you get out of the car (doesn't that sound great?)

Though it's awesome, it's not perfect
so please be aware

Not all of them can be truly trusted
Some are maladjusted, there's a dark shadow
Let me share with you now some stories
From my own experience, some are intense, oh oh

Creepy Uber drivers, don't look like their picture
Tell you to sit up in front with them
Ask you for your number, touch you while you slumber
hide a camera in the car, or compliment your bra

It can be hard, when you're young and cute-ish
To evade their clutches, get out of their car
Even then, some won't leave you alone...
I just got an SMS - uh-oh

"It's your Uber driver, with the black Range Rover
I'm convinced that you're the one for me
Would you say that maybe, you would be my lady
Cos we bonded mentally"

Is it from Abdullah? No, wait, it is Clodagh
She was working on her PHD
Score was 4.80, such a classy lady
I'll admit that it was me, who first touched her knee, ah ah
She's my destiny