Let us pray

Our sky-God, who art a metaphor
For those who can’t face death,
Thy kismet come,
Thy luck be done
In Wales, as it is for everyone else.
Give us this once a fluky win
And overlook our weaknesses
As we overlook centuries of trespass against us.
And lead us not into elimination,
But deliver us to Qatar;
For fate is so random,
And sixty-four years a lifetime
Of never and never.