A Pom's prayer

Now is the time to offer votive prayer,
To ask the sporting gods for special signs
Rain when they bat, those lucky Aussies
Sunshine to bathe our glory in

They've had their turn, surely you gods know that
For 20 years - bar 16 happy months - they wore the crown
They led the world in everything (except gentility)
Justice demands we have the Ashes now

Miller's men have done their best
And, yes, I know its feeble
Strauss is flawed, don't you know it
Please give him a hand

Without KP our batsmen need your blessing
Thank Grace for Freddie, an imperfect human
But a cricketer to turn defeat to victory
In a single ball

So, you silent sporting gods, come forth
Show you have a sense of right and wrong
A whisper in an umpire's ear, a misheard call
It's not too much to ask, now is it?

When we see you've smiled on us
You'll hear us mutter semper fidelis
We'll sing Jerusalem long and loud
All we'll add is: 2-1, you Aussie bastards!