Beethoven’s gone, but his mu­sic lives on,
And Mozart don’t go shop­ping no more.
You’ll nev­er meet Liszt 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 noth­ing much any­one can do.
You can still hear Beethoven,
But Beethoven can­not hear you.

[Rather warped sec­tion of Beethoven’s Fifth]

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 sound.
The pi­anos they played are still work­ing,
But they’re both six feet un­der ground.

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 him left to hear.

Claude Achille De­bussy⁠—​died 1918.
Cristoph Willibald Gluck⁠—​died 1787.
Carl Maria von We­ber⁠—​not at all well 1825⁠—​died 1826.
Gi­a­co­mo Meyer­beer⁠—​till alive 1863⁠—​not still alive 1864.
Mod­est Mus­sorgsky⁠—​1880 go­ing to par­ties⁠—​no fun any­more 1881.
Jo­hann Nepo­muk Hum­mel⁠—​chat­ting away nine­teen to the dozen with his mates down at the pub every evening 1836. 1837⁠—​noth­ing.