Beethoven's gone, but his music lives on,
And Mozart don't go shopping no more.
You'll never meet Lizst or Brahms again,
And Elgar doesn't answer the door.

Schubert and Chopin used to chuckle and laugh,
Whilst composing a long symphony.
But one hundred and fifty years later,
There's very little of them left to see.

They're decomposing composers,
There's not much anyone can do.
You can still hear Beethoven,
But Beethoven cannot hear you.

Handel and Haydn and Rachmaninoff
Enjoyed a nice drink with their meal.
But nowadays no one will serve them,
And their gravy is left to congeal.

Verdi and Wagner delighted the crowds
With their highly original sounds.
The pianos they play are still working,
But they're both six feet underground.

They're decomposing composers,
There's less of them every year.
You can say what you like to Debussy.
But there's not much of them left to hear.

Claude Achille Debussy. Died, 1918.
Christoph Willibald Gluck. Died, 1787.
Carl Maria von Weber. Not at all well, 1825. Died, 1826.
Giacomo Meyerbeer. Still alive, 1863. Not still alive, 1864.
Modest Mussorgsky. 1880, going to parties. No fun anymore, 1881.
Johann Nepomuck Hummel. Chattin' away 19 'an a dozen with his friends down at the Pub every evenin', 1836.
1837, nothing.

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