My frustration searching for my great grandfather George Gregory Sills is described in this poem that I found on a genealogy web site one day. I do not know the author, but it expresses my feelings exactly.
I went searching for an ancestor. I cannot find him still. He moved around from place to place and did not leave a will.
He married where a courthouse burned. He mended all his fences. He avoided any man who came to take the US census.
He always kept his luggage packed, this man who had no fame. And every 20 years or so, this rascal changed his name.
His parents came from Europe. They could be on some list, of passengers to the USA, but somehow they got missed.
And no one else anywhere is searching for this man. So, I play geneasolitaire to find him if I can.
I'm told he's buried in a plot, with tombstone he was blessed, but the weather took engraving and some vandal took the rest,
He died before the county clerks decided to keep records, No family bible has emerged in spite of all my efforts.
To top it off this ancestor, who caused me many groans. Just to give me one more pain, he betrothed a girl named JONES.