A billion eyes on a spot on earth,
A straining of eyes and turning of necks;
As players reach for the troph' they love',
Waka waka! The World Cup's back!

Winning ain't the goal in game,
Doing your best, that's what makes the match;
And honor is yours to claim,
When you've played your best, tho' not a goal fetched.

The crowd arise, the whistle blows,
The game has start'd for all to see;
A brilliant pass and the stadium's aglow,
With vulvuzela blares like bees.

A flying kick, a smashing header,
The ball shoots pass, above the bar;
A corner kick, a daring dribble,
Yet failt o pass the goal line far.

"What's happening?" "Where is the ball?"
"Oh, look there!" "A counter-attack!"
Zipping in and sliding out, the man stood tall;
He's for the goal, no turning back.

A pow'rful kick, the ball flies high,
A graceful arch, as it shot thru' air;
Th goalkeep'r leaps for empty sky,
The ball breezed thru' amidst fanfare!

The fans are wild, the stadium's berserk,
Oh, come on guys! Let's score a goal!
Give the Jabulani a plenty, many jerks;
Don't lose heart, the final whistle h'vn't blow.

The game's o'er, we've net no balls,
Our sweat wasn't little, our efforts weren't rare;
We fought our best, Yes, we've given our all;
Yet, winning and losing- they make a pair.

A team who gives their very best,
Though they lost, makes a team worth cheer'ng;
A team who played fair and no less,
Has no shame in their leav'ng.

They faced big names, yet faintheart'd not;
In spirit won, on paper out.
Beautiful defense and attacks wrought;
They're surely a team, who makes us proud!