Lucius Accius (/ˈæksiəs/; 170 – c. 86 BC), or Lucius Attius, was a Roman tragic poet and literary scholar. The son of a freedman, Accius was born at Pisaurum in Umbria, in 170 BC. The year of his death is unknown, but he must have lived to a great age, since Cicero (born 106 BC, hence 64 years younger) speaks of having conversed with him on literary matters.
He was a prolific writer and enjoyed a very high reputation. The titles and considerable fragments (about 700 lines) of some fifty plays have been preserved. Judging from the titles and fragments, scholars have surmised that most, if not all, of these poems were tragic in nature (although Pliny the Younger does rank him among the erotic poets).
Most of his poetical works were imitations or free translations of the Greek, especially Aeschylus. The earliest of these was most likely the Atreus, which was performed in 140 BC, but which is now lost. He also wrote on some Roman subjects, one of which, an examination of the tyranny of L. Tarquinius Superbus and his expulsion by Lucius Junius Brutus, titled Brutus, and was probably written in honor of his patron D. Brutus. His favorite subjects were the legends of the Trojan War and the house of Pelops. While only fragments remain, the most important of which were preserved by Cicero, they seem sufficient to justify the terms of admiration in which Accius is spoken of by the ancient writers. He is particularly praised for the strength and vigor of his language and the sublimity of his thoughts, and although the grandiloquence of his literary style was on occasion mocked by some of his peers, he continued to be cited by other writers long after his death.
(R. Langdon)
Lucy's lost her shoe and she don't know where she put it
But I hope she'll find it someday
'Cause hands that do dishes may be kind to your face
But stains they'll never wash away
Day in and after, she'd wait up by her window
Wait for all the clouds to blow away
But she won't recall that cold night in November
When her daddy made her play
Oh! Lucy, what went wrong?
You never had it bad
I'll think of you before too long
And I know you ain't coming back
Lucy's lost her shoe and she don't know where she put it
What a terrible shame
And if only she knew how to turn back round and get it
She wouldn't all the same
Sometimes sits and wonders, and sometimes she'll just sit
Or making sure that everyone's OK
She'll often think of life before November
When her daddy made her play
Oh! Lucy, what went wrong?
You never had it bad
I'll think of you before too long
But I know you ain't coming back
Is that such a hard thing to do?
She's only got one shoe