Ay, Ay, Paraguay

Scenes 43 frames

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All 43 frames

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Lyrics as sung in the video

Ay, ay, ay… Charango crying in the midnight heat, Boots on ankles, words in the street. ¡Oye, Paraguay! What was that display? You came to fight the spirit, not to play. They came out swinging like it wasn’t football, More shoulder, more elbow, more late little fall. Every Frenchman turning got a boot or a bite, Every clean little touch turned into a street-corner fight. They crowded Mbappé, they barked at Olisé, Hands in the face like, “You won’t play in paz, yeah.” Trash-talk flying, mira qué show, But the ball kept asking, “Where did the fútbol go?” There’s passion, there’s fire, sí, we all understand, But kicking the rhythm ain’t a master plan. You can shout “vamos” till the whole world hears, But respect is louder than insults and jeers. Ay, Paraguay, learn the game, mi amor, Football ain’t a battlefield, it’s something more. Ay, Paraguay, if you wanna win someday, Respect the soul of fútbol when Les Bleus come your way. No more pushing, no more shame, No more spitting on the spirit of the game. Ay, Paraguay, remember the name: You don’t beat France by breaking the game. They tried to shake the French with every little trick, A nudge in the back, then a smile real quick. A word in the ear, a stare in the face, Like manners got lost at the hotel place. They pulled at the shirts, they chopped at the flow, Then looked at the ref like “¿Qué pasó?” But everybody saw it from the stands to the screen, That wasn’t hard football, that was just plain mean. Aggression ain’t courage, hermano, that’s true, The beautiful game deserves better from you. Play with your chest, play with your pride, But leave all the ugly on the bus outside. Ay, Paraguay, learn the game, mi amor, Football ain’t a battlefield, it’s something more. Ay, Paraguay, if you wanna win someday, Respect the soul of fútbol when Les Bleus come your way. No more pushing, no more shame, No more spitting on the spirit of the game. Ay, Paraguay, remember the name: You don’t beat France by breaking the game. There’s a line between passion and losing your head, Between fighting for glory and seeing red. Between “garra” and chaos, between pride and disgrace, Between a warrior’s heart and an insult in the face. So next time, Paraguay, bring rhythm and class, Not cheap little shots when the French boys pass. Bring courage, bring talent, bring heart, bring flame, But don’t come dancing on the grave of the game. Mbappé kept running, France kept cool, While Paraguay played like they skipped football school. Olise took the noise, Les Bleus took the pain, Then sent them back home in the tournament rain. One-nil, adiós, chao, bye-bye, All that hard-man theater couldn’t reach the sky. Because the game has a spirit, a soul, an art, And you can’t win a World Cup with anger in your heart. Ay, Paraguay, learn the game, mi amor, Football ain’t a battlefield, it’s something more. Ay, Paraguay, if you wanna win someday, Respect the soul of fútbol when Les Bleus come your way. No more pushing, no more shame, No more spitting on the spirit of the game. Ay, Paraguay, remember the name: You don’t beat France by breaking the game. Ay, ay, ay, respeto, señor, The ball wants beauty, not a locker-room war. Ay, ay, ay, remember this flame: To beat the best, first respect the game.

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