Eutychides

Eutychides, who wrote the songs,

Is going down where he belongs.

O you unhappy ones, beware:

Eutychides will soon be there!

For he is coming with twelve lyres,

And with more than twice twelve quires

Of the stuff that he has done

In the world from which he's gone.

Ah, now must you know death indeed,

For he is coming with all speed;

And with Eutychides in Hell,

Where's a poor tortured soul to dwell?