A tourist in a graveyard in
Vienna kept on hearing
Soft music floating on the air;
Intrigued but somehow fearing

The sound was naught but fantasy,
He set about exploring
And found that from an ornate tomb
Bold melodies were pouring.

Inscriptions on the tomb were worn,
With flowers interwoven,
But faintly he could read the name
Of Ludwig van Beethoven.

And then he recognized the tune . . .
Ninth Symphony, of course,
But strangely it was being played
All backward . . . in reverse.

The tourist, puzzled, went his way
But came back with a friend;
By now the Seventh Symphony,
Beginning with the end.

And then the Sixth, still backward yet,
The Fifth and Fourth were next,
Both in reverse, also the Third . . .
The tourists stood perplexed.

They hunted up the keeper of
The graveyard and inquired
About the backward symphonies,
So long ago inspired.

The old caretaker gently smiled,
"You Yanks are just disclosing
Your ignorance . . . it's obvious . . .
The Maestro's decomposing!"

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