Muses guide my tongue to sing An ode to the amphora-keepers A song for the maenad’s groves Of the spirit strangers dwelling there
Souvenirs from bacchus journeys Living essence of the soil Colored red with ritual wine And blood of wilderness . . .
The rogues who haunt the mountain groves The drinking men of Bromius The shifty dwarves of far flung shores Let the spirits flow . . .
Io! Io! Kobaloi!
Take the sistrum in your hand Keep your children locked away! Our honored guests have been invoked The bacchanal has just begun!
Though they are but strangers here Their impudence is never less. Are you ready to lie with Lust? Are you ready to Drink with us?
*On, Bacchae! On, Bacchae! The skins of beasts upon us Io, Bromius! Io Kobaloi! Come taste the nectar of chaos! On, Bacchae! On, Bacchae! With thyrsi in our hands Io, Bromius! Io Kobaloi! Let the ivy twist from the earth we stand on!
Thieves found by the son of Zeus Clever tricksters amusing to see Gifted unto Lydian crown Evermore to drink and jest!