| Gods of the theatre, smile on us | 
| You who sit up there stern in judgment | 
| Smile on us | 
| You who look down on actors… (And who doesn’t?) | 
| Bless this yearly festival and smile on us | 
| We offer you song and dance | 
| We offer you rites and revels | 
| We offer you grace and beauty | 
| Smile on us for this while | 
| You who sit up there stern in judgment, smile on us | 
| We offer you song and dance | 
| We offer you rites and revels | 
| We offer you gods and heroes | 
| We offer you jokes and insults | 
| We offer you (we offer you) paeans and pageants | 
| Bacchanals and social comment | 
| Bless our play and smile | 
| Yes, but first… | 
| Some dos and don’ts | 
| Mostly don’ts: | 
| Please don’t cough | 
| It tends to throw the actors off | 
| Have some respect for Aristophanes | 
| And please, don’t cough | 
| Please don’t squeak | 
| We haven’t oiled the seats all week | 
| You wouldn’t want to miss a single work of Greek | 
| It’s hard enough for us to hear each other speak | 
| So please, don’t squeak | 
| If you see flaws, please | 
| No loud guffaws, please | 
| Only because, please | 
| There are politer ways | 
| As for applause, please | 
| When there’s a pause, please | 
| Although we welcome praise | 
| The echo sometimes lasts for days… | 
| (Days…days…days…days…) | 
| But first… | 
| (Days…days…days…days…) | 
| Don’t take notes | 
| To show us all you know the famous quotes | 
| And when you disapprove don’t clear your throats | 
| Or throw your crumpled programs, coins and coats | 
| Or tell your neighbor scintillating anecdotes | 
| And please, refrain | 
| From candy wrapped in cellophane | 
| If we should get rhetorical | 
| Please don’t curse | 
| Wait till it’s allegorical | 
| And in verse! | 
| If we should get satirical | 
| Don’t take it wrong | 
| And if, by a sudden miracle | 
| A tune should appear that’s lyrical | 
| Don’t hum along | 
| When we are waxing humorous | 
| Please don’t wane | 
| The jokes are obscure but numerous… | 
| We’ll explain | 
| When we are waxing serious | 
| Don’t squirm or laugh | 
| It starts when we act mysterious | 
| And if you’re in doubt, don’t query us | 
| I’ll signal you when we’re serious | 
| (It's in the second half) | 
| (Half…half…half…half…) | 
| But first… | 
| Please, don’t leave | 
| It only makes the actors grieve | 
| We may have something better up our sleeve | 
| So please | 
| Don’t leave | 
| Don’t say, «What?» | 
| To every line you think you haven’t got | 
| And if you’re in a snit because you’ve missed the plot | 
| (Of which I must admit there’s not an awful lot) | 
| Still don’t | 
| Say, «What?» | 
| (What?) | 
| Do not intrude, please | 
| When someone’s nude, please | 
| She’s there for mood, please | 
| And mustn’t be embraced | 
| If we are crude, please | 
| Don’t sit and brood, please | 
| Let’s not be too strait-laced — | 
| The author’s reputation isn’t based | 
| On taste | 
| So please, don’t fart — | 
| There’s very little air and this is art | 
| And should we get offensive, don’t lose heart | 
| Pretend it’s just the playwright being smart | 
| Eventually we’ll get to the catharsis, then depart | 
| And now… | 
| But first… | 
| We start |