¡Hola! to you all, mis amigos
There’s a new game in town
Where ten little short-assed, black-haired guys
Knock one little ball around.
It don’t have to go in the goal, oh no
Or even five yards away
It’s got half of you gouging your eyes out
And the other half yelling “¡Ole!”
Cos, we, play -
Itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny,
Nano, poco, picolini,
Like the ball’s a molecule,
Microscopic, minuscule,
Rain or sun or overcast,
We keep goin’, nowhere fast,
Forward, backward, metronomic,
Mesmerising, quite hypnotic,
Dinky-winky
Nippy, snappy
Namby-pamby
Ziggy-zaggy
Zippy, zappy
Spirit-sappy
Little crappy
Tiki-Taky
Moves.
Our game-plan’s deceptively simple
An hour of keep-ball, until
You lose it, and do something loco -
And then we beat you one-nil.
You, see, how-
Everybody get to touch it -
Pedro, Puyol, Pique, Busquets,
Xavi, Xabi, on to Ramos,
Keep it moving, don’t stop, ¡vamos!
David Silva, David Villa
Everyone but Capdevila,
Iniesta, Fabregas
Sideways shuffle, backward pass,
Dinky-winky
Nippy, snappy
Namby-pamby
Ziggy-zaggy
Zippy, zappy
Spirit-sappy
Little crappy
Tiki-Taky
Moves.
We’ve truly surpassed the old masters
Picasso, Dalí, Velásquez
We’re artists, but also technicians, see -
With beauty we bore you to death.
So, come, on...
Don’t eat steak, you great big fat-ass -
Why not try a little tapas?
No main course, just dainty dips
No big gulps, just little sips.
When we feck, we go on all day
Penetration? No, just foreplay!
Why should we be trigger-happy?
It’s such fun to dick around with
Dinky-winky
Nippy, snappy
Namby-pamby
Ziggy-zaggy
Zippy, zappy
Spirit-sappy
Little crappy
Tiki-Taky
Moves.