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Christmas a lot, but the Grinch in Christmas, the whole Christmas season.

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Now please don't ask why no one quite knows the reason.

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It could be perhaps that his shoes were too tight.

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It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.

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But I think that the most likely reason of all may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

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But whatever the reason his heart or his shoes he stood there on Christmas Eve, hating those.

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Staring down from his cave with a sour, gritchy frow at the warm, lighted windows below in their town.

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For he knew every who down in Whovillebunny was busy now, hanging a holly holly beef.

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And they're hanging their stockings desnild for the sneer.

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Tomorrow is Christmas. It's practically here.

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Then he growled with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming.

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I must find some way to keep Christmas from coming.

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For tomorrow I know all those who girls and boys will wake bright and early.

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They'll rush for their toys and then all that noise.

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Oh the noise, noise, noise, noise.

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There's one thing I hate. All that noise, noise, noise, noise.

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And their shrieks, squeaks and squeals racing round on their wheels.

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They'll dance with gin tinglers tied under their heels.

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They'll blow their blue floobas, they'll bang their tartinkas.

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They'll blow their hoo hoobas, they'll bang their tartinkas loose lockers.

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They'll beat their blunt bloopers, they'll wham their hoo hoobas.

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And they'll play noisy games like Zuzeta-Case, a roller skate type of lacrosse.

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And they'll make ear-spitting noises to looks on that great big electrode who cardio-

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Young and old will sit down to a feast.

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And they'll feast, and they'll feast, and they'll feast, feast, feast, feast.

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They'll feast on hoo pudding and feast, I can't stand in the least.

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The tall and the small will stand close together, will stand hand in hand.

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And those hooves will start singing, sing, sing.

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And the more the Grinch thought of this, who Christmas sing, the more the Grinch thought,

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I must stop this whole thing.

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By the 53 years I put up with it now, I must stop Christmas from coming.

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Then he got an idea. Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea after his throat.

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I'll make a quick santiclaw's hat and a coat.

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He chuckled and clucked.

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What a great Grinchy trick.

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With this coat and this hat, I look just like St. Nick.

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Mr. Grinch cuddly as a cactus, you're as charming as an EU, Mr. Grinch.

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Who were there?

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The Grinch looked around, but since reindeer is scarce, there was not to be found.

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Did that stop the Grinch?

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The Grinch simply said,

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if I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead.

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So he took his dog Max, and he took some black thread,

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and he tied a big horn on the top of his head.

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He sent some old empty sacks on a ramshackle sleigh,

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and he whistled for Max to lay a snooze in that cow.

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He dreams without care.

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Shot of the squaggy claws hissed as he climbed to the roof.

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Empty bags in his fist slid down the chimney, a rather tight pinch,

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but if Santa could do it there, so could the Grinch.

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He got stuck only once for a minute or two.

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Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace, flew with a little,

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whose stockings hung all in a row.

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These stockings he grinched are the first things to go.

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Then he slithered and slunk with a smile,

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most unpleasant around the whole room,

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and he took every present.

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Pop guns, pampongas, pantookas and drums,

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checkerboards, bissel binks, popcorn and plums,

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and he stuffed them in bags then the Grinch, very nimbly,

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stuffed all the bags one by one up the chimney.

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Mr. Grinch, you have termites in your smile.

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You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile.

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Just between the two of you, I'd take the seasick crocodile

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stool sandwich with our sir...

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He slugged to the icebox.

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He took the hoos' feast.

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He took the hoopudding.

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He took the roast-beast.

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He cleaned out the iceboxes, cook as a flash.

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Why, that Grinch even took the last can of hoo-hash.

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Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.

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Now, grinned the Grinch.

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As the Grinch took the tree, as he started to shove,

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he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.

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He turned around fast, and he saw a small hoo.

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Little Cindy Lou, who was no more than two.

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She stared at the Grinch and said,

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Sandy Claus, why?

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Why are you taking her a Christmas tree?

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Why?

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But you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick.

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He thought up a lie, and he thought he was fake.

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My sweet little tot, the fake Sandy Claus lied.

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There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side.

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So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear.

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I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here.

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And his fib fooled the child.

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Then he patted her head, and he got her a drink,

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and he sent her to bed.

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And when Cindy Lou, who was in bed with her cup,

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he cropped to the chimney and stuffed the tree up.

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Then he went up the chimney himself, the old liar,

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and the last thing he took was the log for their fire.

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On their walls he left nothing but hooks and some wire.

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And the one speck of food that he left in the house was a crumb.

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There was even too small for a mouse.

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Then he did the same thing to the other hooves' houses,

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leaving crums much too small for the other hooves' mouses.

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You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch,

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with a nauseous soup, a gnawse.

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You're a crooked jerky jockey, and you drive a crooked hop, Mr. Grinch.

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Your soul is an appalling dump heap,

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overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of rubbish imaginable,

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mangled up in tangled up knots, Mr. Grinch.

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The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote,

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stink, stank, stunk.

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It was a quarter of dawn, all the hooves still a bed, all the hooves still a snooze.

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When he packed up his sled, packed it up with their presents, their ribbons, their wrappings,

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their snoof and their fuzzles, their tringlers and trappings.

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Inside of Mount Crumble, Christmas is coming, they're just waking up,

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I know just what they'll do.

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Their mouths will hang open a minute or two, then the hooves down in a hoove

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will all cry boo-hoo.

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That's a noise, Grinch, that I simply must hear.

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He paused, and the Grinch put a hand to his ear,

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and he did hear a sound rising over the snow.

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It started in lobe, then it started to grow.

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This sound wasn't sad.

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What?

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This sound sounded glad.

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Every hoove down in Hooveville, the tall and the small, was singing.

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Without any presents at all, he hadn't stopped Christmas from coming.

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It came, somehow or other, it came just the same,

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and the Grinch, with his Grinch feet ice-cold in the snow,

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stood puzzling and puzzling.

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How could it be so?

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It came without ribbons.

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It came without tags.

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It came without packages, boxes or bags.

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He puzzled and puzzled till his puzzler was sore.

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Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before.

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Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store.

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Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.

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That the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day.

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The true meaning of Christmas came through,

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and the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches, plus two.

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And now that his heart didn't feel quite so tight,

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he whizzed with his low through the bright morning light,

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with a smile in his soul, in his scented mount trumpet,

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cheerily blowing who-who on his trumpet.

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He rolled into Whoville, he brought back their toys,

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he brought back their floof to the Who girls and boys,

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he brought back their snow for their tringlers and fuzzles,

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brought back their pantookas, their dafflers and wasles.

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He brought everything back, all the food for the feast,

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and he, he himself, the Grinch, carved the roast beast.

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Welcome Christmas, bring your cheer,

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cheer to all who's far and near.

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Christmas Day is in our grasp, so long as we have hands to cross.

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Christmas Day will always be just as long as we have we.

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Welcome Christmas while we stand, heart to heart and hand in hand.

