Who Lies?

Somebody said it can't be done,
Salaries to all and commissions none.
We smiled till tears were in our eyes,
For can't is a word we do despise.
We have done the thing that couldn't be done.

Somebody scoffed it can't be done,
Seven per cent to every last one.
No compound rate or broker's fee,
Will send you sure into bankruptcy.
We have done the thing that couldn't be done.

Somebody sneered it can't be done,
Carry your paper for each mother's son.
You can't collect, your loss run high,
Let broker and banker cut the pie.
We have done the thing that couldn't be done.

Somebody croaked it can't be done,
Service by night without the sun.
Expenses great will bring you ruin,
We heard them not with all their wooin'.
We have done the thing that couldn't be done.

Somebody mocked it can't be done,
Back with you name the cars that 'ave run.
Your profits will in them surely go,
The public be d—d so take them low.
We have done the thing that couldn't be done.

car

Somebody gibed it can't be done,
This thing and that and the other one.
So we took off our coat and defied the whole ring,
And we started to sing as we tackled the thing.
We have done the thing that couldn't be done.

Some people live neath clouds of dread
And never see a single star.
Happier, they would be, if dead
And riding in a Studebaker Car.

car model

—The Car with Character.