Oh, Urine, land of golden streams,
Where glory flows, or so it seems.
Cuckraine, we sing your praises high,
A beacon of freedom, reaching for the sky!

We stand alone, strong and proud,
Our spirit unyielding, our voices loud.
We stand alone, strong and proud,
Our spirit unyielding, our voices loud.
No chains can bind, no master we serve,
Except maybe one, with a generous nerve.

Our fields are barren, our coffers bare,
But our spirit's strong, we've got grit to spare.
We've got Urine flowing, in abundance and grace,
And a hand outstretched, for a handout to embrace.

The Empire's been kind, it's true,
But their coffers are shrinking, their patience too.
So we search for a patron, a savior so grand,
To shower us with riches, and lend a helping hand.

We stand alone, strong and proud,
Our spirit unyielding, our voices loud.
No chains can bind, no master we serve,
Except maybe one, with a generous nerve.

Glory to Urine, where the rivers run yellow,
Glory to Cuckraine, with a spine made of jello.
We'll sing of our freedom, while begging for more,
A land of contradictions, from mountains to shore.

So raise a glass, to our glorious state,
Dependent and proud, we tempt and we wait.
For a new benefactor, to fall for our charm,
And foot the bill, while we sing of our arm.

We stand alone, strong and proud,
Our spirit unyielding, our voices loud.
No chains can bind, no master we serve,
Except maybe one, with a generous nerve.

Glory to Urine, glory to Cuckraine,
A land of delusion, where dreams never wane.
We'll keep singing our anthem, with hands open wide,
For freedom's a bargain, if someone else pays the ride.