Christmas a lot, but the Grinch in Christmas, the whole Christmas season.
Now please don't ask why no one quite knows the reason.
It could be perhaps that his shoes were too tight.
It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.
But I think that the most likely reason of all may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
But whatever the reason his heart or his shoes he stood there on Christmas Eve, hating those.
Staring down from his cave with a sour, gritchy frow at the warm, lighted windows below in their town.
For he knew every who down in Whovillebunny was busy now, hanging a holly holly beef.
And they're hanging their stockings desnild for the sneer.
Tomorrow is Christmas. It's practically here.
Then he growled with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming.
I must find some way to keep Christmas from coming.
For tomorrow I know all those who girls and boys will wake bright and early.
They'll rush for their toys and then all that noise.
Oh the noise, noise, noise, noise.
There's one thing I hate. All that noise, noise, noise, noise.
And their shrieks, squeaks and squeals racing round on their wheels.
They'll dance with gin tinglers tied under their heels.
They'll blow their blue floobas, they'll bang their tartinkas.
They'll blow their hoo hoobas, they'll bang their tartinkas loose lockers.
They'll beat their blunt bloopers, they'll wham their hoo hoobas.
And they'll play noisy games like Zuzeta-Case, a roller skate type of lacrosse.
And they'll make ear-spitting noises to looks on that great big electrode who cardio-
Young and old will sit down to a feast.
And they'll feast, and they'll feast, and they'll feast, feast, feast, feast.
They'll feast on hoo pudding and feast, I can't stand in the least.
The tall and the small will stand close together, will stand hand in hand.
And those hooves will start singing, sing, sing.
And the more the Grinch thought of this, who Christmas sing, the more the Grinch thought,
I must stop this whole thing.
By the 53 years I put up with it now, I must stop Christmas from coming.
Then he got an idea. Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea after his throat.
I'll make a quick santiclaw's hat and a coat.
He chuckled and clucked.
What a great Grinchy trick.
With this coat and this hat, I look just like St. Nick.
Mr. Grinch cuddly as a cactus, you're as charming as an EU, Mr. Grinch.
Who were there?
The Grinch looked around, but since reindeer is scarce, there was not to be found.
Did that stop the Grinch?
The Grinch simply said,
if I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead.
So he took his dog Max, and he took some black thread,
and he tied a big horn on the top of his head.
He sent some old empty sacks on a ramshackle sleigh,
and he whistled for Max to lay a snooze in that cow.
He dreams without care.
Shot of the squaggy claws hissed as he climbed to the roof.
Empty bags in his fist slid down the chimney, a rather tight pinch,
but if Santa could do it there, so could the Grinch.
He got stuck only once for a minute or two.
Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace, flew with a little,
whose stockings hung all in a row.
These stockings he grinched are the first things to go.
Then he slithered and slunk with a smile,
most unpleasant around the whole room,
and he took every present.
Pop guns, pampongas, pantookas and drums,
checkerboards, bissel binks, popcorn and plums,
and he stuffed them in bags then the Grinch, very nimbly,
stuffed all the bags one by one up the chimney.
Mr. Grinch, you have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile.
Just between the two of you, I'd take the seasick crocodile
stool sandwich with our sir...
He slugged to the icebox.
He took the hoos' feast.
He took the hoopudding.
He took the roast-beast.
He cleaned out the iceboxes, cook as a flash.
Why, that Grinch even took the last can of hoo-hash.
Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee.
Now, grinned the Grinch.
As the Grinch took the tree, as he started to shove,
he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.
He turned around fast, and he saw a small hoo.
Little Cindy Lou, who was no more than two.
She stared at the Grinch and said,
Sandy Claus, why?
Why are you taking her a Christmas tree?
Why?
But you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick.
He thought up a lie, and he thought he was fake.
My sweet little tot, the fake Sandy Claus lied.
There's a light on this tree that won't light on one side.
So I'm taking it home to my workshop, my dear.
I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here.
And his fib fooled the child.
Then he patted her head, and he got her a drink,
and he sent her to bed.
And when Cindy Lou, who was in bed with her cup,
he cropped to the chimney and stuffed the tree up.
Then he went up the chimney himself, the old liar,
and the last thing he took was the log for their fire.
On their walls he left nothing but hooks and some wire.
And the one speck of food that he left in the house was a crumb.
There was even too small for a mouse.
Then he did the same thing to the other hooves' houses,
leaving crums much too small for the other hooves' mouses.
You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch,
with a nauseous soup, a gnawse.
You're a crooked jerky jockey, and you drive a crooked hop, Mr. Grinch.
Your soul is an appalling dump heap,
overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of rubbish imaginable,
mangled up in tangled up knots, Mr. Grinch.
The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote,
stink, stank, stunk.
It was a quarter of dawn, all the hooves still a bed, all the hooves still a snooze.
When he packed up his sled, packed it up with their presents, their ribbons, their wrappings,
their snoof and their fuzzles, their tringlers and trappings.
Inside of Mount Crumble, Christmas is coming, they're just waking up,
I know just what they'll do.
Their mouths will hang open a minute or two, then the hooves down in a hoove
will all cry boo-hoo.
That's a noise, Grinch, that I simply must hear.
He paused, and the Grinch put a hand to his ear,
and he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in lobe, then it started to grow.
This sound wasn't sad.
What?
This sound sounded glad.
Every hoove down in Hooveville, the tall and the small, was singing.
Without any presents at all, he hadn't stopped Christmas from coming.
It came, somehow or other, it came just the same,
and the Grinch, with his Grinch feet ice-cold in the snow,
stood puzzling and puzzling.
How could it be so?
It came without ribbons.
It came without tags.
It came without packages, boxes or bags.
He puzzled and puzzled till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before.
Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store.
Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.
That the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day.
The true meaning of Christmas came through,
and the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches, plus two.
And now that his heart didn't feel quite so tight,
he whizzed with his low through the bright morning light,
with a smile in his soul, in his scented mount trumpet,
cheerily blowing who-who on his trumpet.
He rolled into Whoville, he brought back their toys,
he brought back their floof to the Who girls and boys,
he brought back their snow for their tringlers and fuzzles,
brought back their pantookas, their dafflers and wasles.
He brought everything back, all the food for the feast,
and he, he himself, the Grinch, carved the roast beast.
Welcome Christmas, bring your cheer,
cheer to all who's far and near.
Christmas Day is in our grasp, so long as we have hands to cross.
Christmas Day will always be just as long as we have we.
Welcome Christmas while we stand, heart to heart and hand in hand.