Cold San Marino Blues

[Verse 1] Called yourselves the 'dark horses,' thought you’d give the world a scare, But you’re just shivering ponies gasping for some oxygen in the air. Ousmane Dembélé didn’t even need to tighten up his laces, Thirty-two minutes to put puddles on your Viking faces. That’s a first-half hat-trick, yeah, the history books are rewritten, Since ninety-four we haven’t seen a side get so severely smitten. [Chorus] Thirty-two minutes, three goals, one name, Dembélé turned your 'Golden Age' to absolute shame! No Haaland, no hope, just a shivering crew, You're a frozen San Marino and we’re laughing at you! Pack up the flags, keep the lutefisk cold, You’re out of the Cup before the story is told! [Verse 2] Your backline was a fortress through the qualifying stage, But tonight you were the kittens trapped inside a blue-lit cage. Forty-five minutes and your reputation’s in the bin, More goals conceded than the whole run that got you in! With Erling on the bench, your threat is purely fictional, An attack so lukewarm, it’s borderline medicinal. France secured the top spot without even breaking sweat, While you were busy fishing balls from the back of the net. [Bridge] Watch the Frenchmen dancing while you're staring at the clock, That 'top contender' label was a massive pile of crock. You’re famous for your fjords but you’re drowning on the grass, In every single department, you were shown a lack of class. [Outro] Three-one on the board, but it felt like ten to nil, Norway’s going home with a very bitter pill. Merci, Ousmane, for the thirty-two-minute show, Norway, you’re just tourists. It's time for you to go!