If
I Could could be in Oleana,
that's where I'd like to be,
then be bound in Norway
and drag the chains of slavery.
Ole, Oleana, Ole, Oleana,
Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole, Oleana.
Little roasted piggies
rush around the city streets
politely inquiring if a slice
of ham you'd like to eat.
Olé, olé, Anna!
Olé, olé, Anna!
Olé, olé, olé, olé, olé, olé,
Anna!
Beer as sweet as Münchner
springs from the ground and flows away.
The cows all like to milk themselves,
the hens lay eggs ten times a day.
Olé, olé, Anna.
Olé, olé, Anna.
Olé, olé, olé, olé, olé, olé, Anna.
And when you plant potatoes,
it's never very risky.
From each little one you plant,
you get a quart of whiskey.
Olé, olé, Anna.
Olé, olé, Anna.
Olé, olé, olé, olé, olé, olé, Anna.
So if you would be happy to Oleana,
you must go.
The poorest man from Norway
becomes a duke in a year or so.
Ole, Oleana, Ole, Oleana,
Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole,
Oleana.
Ole ole, ole oleoya
Ole ole ole oleole you