[Tune: an ‘Anglican Chant’]
O Lord * now lettest thou my | putts go in : and calm my | trembling hands.
For I have bought a new dynamically-balanced-in-line putter * with reflex shaft | and mill-ed face : which should be | my salvat-ion.
I have marked * lifted * and | cleaned my ball : and replaced it with the maker’s name on the line of the putt * as | most profess’nals do.
I have picked out a spot 6 inches in front of the ball * over which to roll it on its | way to the hole : as reco-|mmended by Jack Nicklaus.
I have addressed my ball with my feet * knees * hips * shoulders * and eyes * parallel | to the line : so that if I were to drop another ball from the bridge of my nose * it would strike the | ball upon the ground.
But * thou knowest Lord * that if I were actually to do this * I would incur a penalty stroke under Rule Eighteen | 2 (a) (ii) : so that point is for | illustrat-ion only.
I am taking the putter back square | to the line : and accelerating it smoothly through the ball a- | long the line of putt.
I will not lift up mine eyes to see where the | ball has gone : but I will wait * and harken * until I hear it… dropping…… into…… the……. cup……….
Almighty God * the damned ball’s still | 4 feet short : O Lord * why dost thou tor- | ment us with this game.
In the name of Harry Vardon * Bobby Jones * and | Henry Cotton : putts without | end.