Beethoven 's gone, but his music lives on,
And Mozart don't go shopping no more,
You'll never meet Listol Brahms again,
And Elfa doesn't answer the door.
Schubert and Chopin used to chat all night long,
Whilst composing a long symphony,
But one hundred and fifty years later,
There's very little of them left to see.
The decomposing composers,
There's nothing much anyone can do,
You can still hear Beethoven,
But Beethoven cannot hear you.
Handel and Hyden and Rachmaninov,
Enjoyed a nice drink with their meal,
But nowadays no one will serve them,
And the gravy is left to cogeal.
Verdi and Vaughner delighted the crowds,
With a highly original sound,
The pianos they used are still working,
But they're both six feet underground.
The decomposing composers,
There's less of them every year,
You can say what you like to Devuci,
But there's not much of him left to hear.
