Cindy Lou Who: Santie Claus, why? Why are you taking our Christmas tree, why?
Narrator: But do you know, the Grinch was so smart and so slick,
That he thought up a lie and he thought it up quick.
Grinch: Why my sweet little tot,
Narrator: - -the fake Santie Claus lied -...
Grinch: ...there's a light on this tree that won't light on one side.
So I'm taking it home to my work shop, my dear.
I'll fix it up there, then I'll bring it back here.
Narrator: And his fib fooled the child. So he got her a drink and he patted her head and he sent her to bed.
And when Cindy Lou Who was in bed with her cup,
He crept to the chimbley and stuffed the tree up.
Then he went up the chimbley himself, the old liar,
And the last thing he took was the log for their fire.

Grinch: It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
It came without packages boxes, or bags!
Narrator: And 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."

And then the true meaning of Christmas came through,
And the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches… plus two.

Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot,
But the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, did not.
The Grinch hated Christmas -- the whole Christmas season.
Oh, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason.
It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.
Or maybe his head wasn't screwed on just right.
But I think that the best reason of all
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

He brought everything back, all the food for the feast.
And he, he himself, the Grinch, carved the roast beast.

I must stop this whole thing!
Why, for fifty-three years, I've put up with it now.
I must stop Christmas from coming… but how?

One thing I can't stand is the noise, noise, noise, noise!

Then he got an idea. An awful idea.
The Grinch had a wonderful, awful idea.

They're finding out now that no 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 Whos down in Whoville will all cry, "Boo Hoo."

You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch.
With a nauseaus super-naus.
You're a crooked jerky jockey
And you drive a crooked hoss.
Mr. Grinch.
You're a three decker saurkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce.

You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch.
You're a nasty, wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks
Your soul is full of gunk.
Mr. Grinch.
The three words that best describe you are as follows and I quote: "Stink. Stank. Stunk."

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Grinch.
You're a bad banana...with a greasy black peel.

You're a monster, Mr. Grinch.
Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders,
You've got garlic in your soul.
Mr. Grinch.
I wouldn't touch you, with a...thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.

You're a rotter, Mr. Grinch.
You're the king of sinful sots.
Your heart's a dead tomato splot
With moldy purple spots,
Mr. Grinch.
Your soul is an apalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable, mangled up in tangled up knots.