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, demanding 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 page 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. 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. Sing you fools, but you got it wrong. Enjoy your prayers because you haven't got long. Your queen is dead, your king is through. She's not coming back to you. Showbiz has kept us all alive since 17 October 1945. But the star is gone, the glamour's worn thin. That's a pretty bad state for a state to be in. Instead of government, we had a stage. Instead of ideas, a prim and honest rage. Instead of help, we were given a crowd. She didn't say much, but she said it loud. And who am I who dares to keep his head held high while millions weep? Why the exception to the rule? Opportunist, traitor, fool, or just a man who grew and saw from 17 to 24 his country bled crucified. She's not the only one who's died. Sing you fools, but you got it wrong. Enjoy your prayers because you haven't got long. Your queen is dead, your king is through. She's not coming back to you. Salve Regina, Mater Misericordiae, Vita Ducida et Spes Nostra. Salve, Salve Regina, Peron Materia. Ad Te Amamus, Ex Sules Filii Irma, Ad Te Suspiramus, Gelmentes, Et Fremdes, O Clemens, O Pia. Salve Regina, Mater Misericordiae, Vita Ducida et Spes Nostra. 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, signed 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 too. Now Eva Perón had every disadvantage you need if you're gonna succeed. No money, no class, no father, no bright lights. There was nowhere she'd been at the age of fifteen. As this tango singer found out, a tango singer, Agustín Magalli, who has the distinction of being the first man to be of use to Eva Duarte.