ENGLAND
Oh, brilliant, what is that I see?
An infuriating little frog come to bother me.
So you feel like ticking me off, do you?
Well, perhaps I'm in the mood to curse someone now, guess who?
The most perplexing to you during the Napoleonic Wars was I,
So you believe you can beat me at things like this, why?
I'm so much more than you'll ever be
The things I am and have been are more superior than thee
For heaven's sake, I was a pirate
You wouldn't do well if you even tried it
Hairy Frenchman, I'm a wizard
I can hunt you down and freeze you with a blizzard
I doubt you have as much spunk
As when I was a punk
I'm a gentleman as well, traditional and classy
Even so, I could make your eyes moist and glassy
Why, look at you! Such a girl, it causes me to hurl
Now my singing powers are really going to unfurl!
FRANCE
You have a multiple personality disorder
And at least I'm not crossing over the insanity border
Now, why would I want to be a violent brute
Whose only goals are prosperity, fame and loot?
Meddling in dark magic is not for moi
I don't need it to make men and women alike go, 'Ooh, la la~"
So apparently you don't think I pass for a male?
Everyone knows I've got the biggest-oh, right, you're a prude, and if I say things like that you might smack me into a rail
Mon Dieu, your eyebrows!
They are the size of cows!
You're the Black Sheep of Europe
Always drinking from a dull teacup
I have more elegant taste
And I don't allow food to go to waste
It really disturbs me, how your scones
Are not natural tones
You're just as strange as the you in the 2p dimension
Now, are you done releasing your sexual tension?
ENGLAND
You claim me to be a prude?
Hah, that coming from someone so crude!
Not only are you extremely flamboyant
You use overly powerful perfume instead of deodorant
Is it because without it you'd smell like the loo?
I'll bet that's it, Pepe le Peu.
You call yourself romantic, and beautiful, too
That's all a bunch of rubbish and hullabaloo
To survive, I do not require love
With my Splendid Isolation, I've advanced far above
Perhaps you see me as a bit of a rough lad
However, when it comes to nations, is that so bad?
You're not one to be talking
Considering you aren't successful when fighting or refraining
My Glorious Revolution was quite a feat
I highly doubt that yours was anywhere near as neat
I'm the United bloody Kingdom
Not a surrender-happy bum
A few final words and then we are done
So before I go, I want you to know
When it comes to rapping, I'm never ever slow
Git, I can sing better than you even after downing too much ale
As usual, prepare yourself to be forced to bail
When it comes to your voice, I've no desire to cast a hoax
Because all I hear from you anyway are nothing more than croaks.
FRANCE
You certainly have a short temper
But I can easily handle it in all of my splendor
You converse with air
Then claim you're speaking with fairies-what, where?
Ohonhonhonhonhon~!
I do wonder what you're on.
When it comes to hair, you wind up in more messes
Than my own long tresses
My uniquely breathtaking sense of style
Can outdo yours by a mile
Et au contraire, Angleterre
Everyone needs l'amour
Are you simply too much of a bore?
That fancy term for loneliness you're addressing
Is just to make it sound less depressing
Wine is more fashionable than ale, and you believe you can sing?
More like wail.
WHO WON?! YOU DECIDE!