A Prayer for the Oppressed

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want 
He maketh me down to lie 
Through pastures green he leadeth me the silent waters by 
With bright knives he releaseth my soul 
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places 
He converteth me to lamb cutlets 
For lo, he hath great power and great hunger 

When cometh the day we lowly ones 
Through quiet reflection and great dedication 
Master the art of karate 
Lo, we shall rise up 
And then we'll make the bugger's eyes water.