I call to Thalia, wreathed in ivy,
daughter of Zeus and wise Mnemosyne,
good mother of the Corybantes
who dance with spear and shield a-clash,
O merry muse of comedy,
of country rhyme and rustic tales,
bearer of the long-armed crook
with which the shepherd guides his flock,
yours is the laughter that clears the soul,
the simple jest and the sharpened wit.
O ever-blooming Thalia,
I pray to you, goddess, I honor your gifts.