O, Proscenius, who art way up in the rigging, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy show-week come, Thy mitersaw run.

Give us this day our set design, and forgive us our trespasses at cast parties, as we forgive those who go wild with Thy Glow-tape. Lead us into Temptation, and deliver us from the actors. Proscenius is our TD, who maketh the Makitas' to run, and who giveth us the strength to pound nails. O most magnificent and merciful majesty, Master of the universe, Protector of the meek, whose nose we are not fit to pick and scrape, and whose peacocks keep us awake all hours of the night with their noisy love making, we beseech thee to give us a successful show and a good bake sale. We humbly request that thou allow us to not screw up Thy Light and Sound Cues, and to make the scene changers move swiftly, invisibly and silently.

As we believe that thou created the stage, we believe that thou shalt supply us with an audience which will laugh at the funny parts, cry at the sad parts, clap at the good parts, and clap at the bad parts. Finally, Lord of the Scenedock, just as thou walkest with us through the Pit of death, we ask that thou keep Woody's head perpetually young, our TD's perpetually competent, and ourselves perpetually insane. In the name of Proscenius, Haigha, and the Great Yak. Ah, men.

Our TD,
Whom art in the scene shop,
Hallowed be thy drill,
Thy hammers strike,
With force and might,
On oak as they do on redwood;
Give us this play,
Our techie bash;
And forgive us our mistakes,
As we forgive actors who break what we make;
And lead us not into spotlights,
But deliver us to darkness;
For thine is the duct tape, and the power tools,
And the glory of the techies, now and forever,
Amen

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Yak my set to keep,
And if I die before I wake,
I pray the Yak my set to break.

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Yak my do-list keep,
and if I die before I wake,
I pray the Yak my place to take.

Now I sit down for a spell,
I pray the Yak my lights to gel,
And if I die upon my tush,
I pray the Yak my crossfaders push.

Now I sit upon stage right,
I pray the play goes well tonight,
And if the audience is not pleased,
I pray the neurotoxin be released.

Sawdust thou art, and unto sawdust shalt thou return.