Successful Failure

I wonder if successful men
  Are always happy?
And do they sing with gusto when
  Springtime is sappy?
Although I am of snow-white hair
  And nighly mortal,
Each time I sniff the April air
  I chortle.

I wonder if a millionaire
  Jigs with enjoyment,
Having such heaps of time to spare
  For daft employment.
For as I dance the Highland Fling
  My glee is muckle,
And doping out new songs to sing
  I chuckle.

I wonder why so soon forgot
  Are fame and riches;
Let cottage comfort be my lot
  With well-worn britches.
As in a pub a poor unknown,
  Brown ale quaffing,
To think of all I'll never own,--
  I'm laughing.