LORD ADALBERT:
Why are all the D’Ysquiths dying?
What could explain this tragic family curse?
A night or two ago
We were at Fidelio
He stood and booed the mezzo
And today, he’s in a hearse

If I should say that I wasn’t concerned, I would be lying
One doesn’t like to think of one’s demise
With such events, you see
How fragile life can be
It rather makes me wonder
If the next one will be me

ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS:
So tell me
Why are all the D’Ysquiths dying?

LORD ADALBERT:
The family tree’s been whittled down to size

ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS:
It’s just a twig now

LORD ADALBERT:
There’s almost no one left to eulogize
ANCESTRAL PORTRAITS:
Except for you, dear

ALL:
Let us pray no other D’Ysquith dies