Our Buttpan, who art on arse,

Hallowed by thy shield,

The bullets will come,

Much deflecting done,

On hills as it is in house seven,

Give us this day our daily survival,

And forgive us our killings,

As we forgive those that kill us,

And lead us not into shots fired

But deliver us from death

For thine is the Protection, survival and the metal,

Forever and ever, Amen