The Bab Ballads, with Which Are Included Songs of a Savoyard

by W. S. Gilbert

Which I strove in vain to hush up.

Ghosts of fraudulent joint-stock banks,

Ghosts of copy, "declined with thanks,"

Of novels returned in endless ranks,

And thousands more, I suffer.

The only line to fitly grace

My humble tomb, when I've run my race,

Is "Reader, this is the resting-place

Of an unsuccessful duffer."