Oh, what a circus! Oh, what a show! Argentina has gone to town over the death of an actress called Eva Perón. We've all gone crazy, mourning all day and mourning all night, falling over ourselves to get all of the misery right. Oh, what an exit! That's how to go when they're ringing your curtain down. Demand to be buried like Eva Perón. It's quite a sunset and good for the country in a roundabout way. We've made the front pages of all the world's papers today. But who is this Santa Evita? Why all this howling, hysterical sorrow? What kind of goddess has lived among us? How will we ever get by without her? She had her moments, she had some style. The best show in town was the crowd outside the Casa Rosada crying Eva Perón. But that's all gone now. As soon as the smoke from the funeral clears, we're all gonna see and how. She did nothing for years. Salve Regina, Mater Misericordiae. Vita Dulce, Duestres Nostra. Salve, Salve Regina. A te grabamos, exsules milieva. A te suspiramos, gementes. Efentes ocreme Sofia. You let down your people, Evita. You were supposed to have been immortal. That's all they wanted, not much to ask for. But in the end you could not deliver. Seen you fools but you got it wrong. Enjoy your prayers but you haven't got love. Queen is dead, your king is through. She is not coming back to you. Show business kept us all alive since 17 October 1945. But the star is gone, gladness won't thin. That's a pretty bad state for a state to be in. Instead of government we had a stage. Instead of ideals, a prima donna's rage. Instead of help, we were given a crown. She didn't say much but she said it loud. Seen you fools but you got it wrong. Enjoy your prayers but you haven't got love. Your queen is dead, your king is through. She is not coming back to you. A te, a te amamos, exsules filia. A te suspiramos, gementes. Efentos ocreme Sofia. A te suspiramos, gementes. Efentos ocreme Sofia. A te suspiramos, gementes. Efentos ocreme Sofia. Don't cry for me Argentina. For I am ordinary, unimportant. And undeserving of such attention. Unless we all are, I think we all are. Ride on my train, all my people. And when it's your turn to die, you'll remember. They fired those cannons, sang lamentations. Not just for Eva, for Argentina. Not just for Eva, for everybody. So share my glory, so share my coffin. So share my glory, so share my coffin. It's our funeral tune.