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at the top of a mountian, so cold and so bleak,
there lived a man,
of which no one did speak,

people would only whisper his name,
"the grinch," they would say,
a one and the same,

the grinch would look down,
from high on his perch,
anger and malice from his heart would lerch,

for he had no love for the town,
smiling their smiles,
but never a frown,

meanwhile back in the village of who

the people all did as they should,
eating their veggies,
and cleaning their room,

curling their hair, in the way the law said,
doing their chores,
and making their beds,

they knew of all the right answers
to the wrong questions
and were excellent dancers



"how ya doin sir?"
"good!" they'd exclaim