I don’t drink coffee,
I take Oolong, dear;
I like prawn toast,
Done on one side.
You can see it in my eyes,
When I am near;
I’m a Chinaman,
In Ikea.

See me walking,
Through the warehouse,
A fire lance here,
By my side.
I’ll gun you down with it,
No fear;
I’m a Chinaman,
In Ikea.

Wo-oah!
I’m a communist;
My mum and dad are communists;
I’m a Chinaman in Ikea.

Won’t say thank you,
For your service;
‘Cause that ain’t,
The Chinese way.
I’ll leave a mess;
It ain’t my job to clean it up,
I must be,
Whatever my dictators say!

Wo-oah!
I love ping-pong;
All of us love ping-pong;
I’m a Chinaman in Ikea.

Modesty, propriety;
They’re so nineteen-nineties;
We are cyborgs,
Each and everyone.
Rudeness and sobriety;
Traits of our society;
And we hate The Land,
Of the Rising Sun!

Takes more than lamb chow mein,
To make a man;
Takes more than Tsingtao,
To get him drunk.
Eat egg fried rice,
And add soy sauce when you can;
Use a flatbed,
Leave it outside when you’re done.

“Manners maketh man,”
As some fools say.
No, that just ain’t,
The Chinese way.
Takes a man to be,
Ignorant and rarely smile;
I will do,
Whatever Xi Jinping says.

Wo-oah!
Flatpack furniture;
I love flatpack furniture;
I’m a Chinaman in Ikea.

Wo-oah!
Mid-tier meatballs;
Give me mid-tier meatballs;
I’m a Chinaman in Ikea…