Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
But he with a chuckle replied,
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one,
Who wouldn't say so 'til he'd tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin,
On his face.
If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing,
That couldn't be done, and he did it.
Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it.";
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.
There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure;
There are thousands to point out to you, one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.
[edgar a. guest]