Which art in London,
Hallowed be thy game,
Thy Championship come,
Thy League be done,
In Hackney as it is in Peckham.
Give us this day our daily throw-in
And forgive us our missed passes,
As we forgive those who score goals against us,
And lead us not into grass polo,
And deliver us from punctures,
For thine is the mallet,
The T-shirt and the disc wheel,
Forever and ever,
POLO!
