We have all we could ask for, we’re having a blast
So much more than the years of the past
(the lyrics are crap)
(oh, they’re really quite crap)
Now Harrow’s gone, no longer the producer
I say, good riddance to that
The contest has become since so much better
Without that sad, selfish brat
Oh, our newer king, producer ESCFan
Has reinvented the game
Dan think that’s lame? Hah! I know he’s jealous
A noble mentor, and full of sense of humour
To all contestants he’d say:
“Oh, you’re late? It’s not a problem
I can for fairness’ sake
Extend the deadline by ten days”
We can write to NFs, if it’s poor - he corrects
Spell-check, stress and cohere
No withdrawal effects, ALC never rests
With five contests per year
If we enter in haste, or just copy and paste
From Weird Al, it’s no plagiat
We don’t miss Dan when everything’s always so perfect like that
(oh, the lyrics are crap)
The scoreboard’s posh, more than the Simulator
With sound effects and live feed
Mm, and best of all, respected guests of honour
All Dan could get us was Chrissy G. and Tinka
But now - Kevin Borg and Loreen!
We’re unlikely to fail when to final will sail
At least twelve of fifteen
We can enter again under false pot plant names
Like “McMurdo” or “Steve”
Did our songs go ahead? We no longer need dread
Of Harrowing semi results
(but lyrics are crap)
If despite all our work on the fit, it remains a disaster
He’ll get the singers to fix up our mess and adapt their own song...!
Under liberal rules, we may trash Liverpool
Call Conchita a bitch
Can promote our own song, there’s no Bobbo Award
Carly may vote for Rich
Harrow Era is dead and we love what’s instead
So long live our fancy new club
...As you’ve probably noticed, I lied, all this joy is made up
‘Cause the lyrics are
All the lyrics are crap
