The man who misses all the fun Is he who says, "It can't be done." In solemn pride he stands aloof And greets each venture with repoof. Had he the power he'd efface The history of the human race; We'd have no radio or motor cars, No streets lit by electric stars; No telegraph nor telephone, We'd linger in the age of stone. The world would sleep if things were run By men who say, "It can't be done."