On fields of green where warriors tread,
With heartbeats racing, dreams widespread,
A whistle blows, the game's begun,
In pursuit of glory, united as one.
Eleven strong in jerseys bright,
Each stride a dance, each pass a flight,
The roar of crowds, a symphony loud,
Belief and passion, the pulse of the crowd.
The ball spins fast, a blur in the air,
With skillful feet, they weave with care,
A flick, a trick, a well-timed drive,
In this fierce battle, the spirit’s alive.
The keeper stands, a fortress bold,
With gloved hands readied, a story told,
As a striker lunges, the net holds its breath,
In the dance of chance, there’s glory and death.
From corners and crosses, the tension climbs,
Each swing of the leg, a rhythm in rhymes,
With moments of magic that light up the night,
The beautiful game, a spectacular sight.
And when the final whistle calls,
With sweat and joy, both rise and falls,
Win or lose, they gather near,
For in the heart of football, all are sincere.
So here's to the game, to passion and pride,
To every young dreamer, with stars as their guide,
May the love for the sport forever ignite,
In every kick, every goal, an endless delight.