At the far end of town where the Grickle -grass grows

and the wind smells slow and sour when it blows

and no birds ever sing, excepting old crows,

is the street of the lifted Lorax.

Deep in the Grickle-grass some people say

if you look deep enough you can still see today

where the Lorax once stood just as long as he could

before somebody lifted the Lorax away.

What was the Lorax? And why was he there?

And why was he lifted and taken somewhere

from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows?

The old Once-ler still lives there. Ask him. He knows.

You won't see the Once-ler. Don't knock at his door.

He lurks in his Lerkim on top of his store

and he stays in his Lerkim, cold under the roof,

where he makes his own clothes out of miff-muffered moof.

And on special dank midnights in August he peeks

out of the shutters, sometimes he speaks

and tells us how the Lorax was lifted away.

He'll tell you perhaps, if you're willing to pay.

Now I'll tell you, he says with his teeth sounding gray,

how the Lorax got lifted and taken away . . .

. . . it all started way back. Such a long long time back . . .

Way back in the days when the grass was still green,

and the pond was still wet, and the clouds were still clean.

The song of the Swomee-Swans rang out in space.

One morning I came to this glorious place.

I first saw the trees! The Truffula Trees!

The bright colored tufts of the Truffula Trees!

Mile after mile in the fresh morning breeze.

And under the trees I saw Brown Bar-ba-loots.

Frisking about their Bar-ba-loot suits

as they have happily lived eating Truffula fruits.

From the rippulous pond came the comfortable sound

of the Humming-Fish humming while splashing around.

But those trees! Those trees!

Those glorious trees!

All my life I've been searching for trees such as these.

The touch of their tufts was much softer than silk;

they had the sweet smell of fresh butterfly milk.

And I felt a great leaping of joy in my heart.

I knew just what I'd do! I unloaded my cart.

In no time at all I had built a small shop

and then I chopped down a Truffula Tree with one chop.

And with great skillful skill, and with great speedy speed,

I took that old tuff, and I knitted a Thneed.

But just as I finished, I heard a ga-Zump!

I looked. I saw something pop out of the stump

of the tree I cut down. It was kind of a man.

Describe him? That's hard. I don't know if I can.

He was shortish. And oldish.

And brownish and mossy.

And he spoke with a voice that was sharpish and bossy.

Mister! He said with a sawdusty sneeze.

I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees.

I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.

And I'm asking you sir, at the top of my lungs --

Well he was very very upset as he shouted and puffed --

What's that THING you've made out of my Truffula tuft?

Look, Lorax, I said. There's no cause for alarm.

I chopped down just one tree, I'm doing no harm.

This thing is quite useful, this thing is a Thneed.

A Thneed's a fine something that all people need.

It's a shirt! It's a sock! It's a glove!

It's a hat!

But it has other uses, Mr. Lorax. Yes, far beyond that.

you can use it for curtains, or covers, or seats.

Or covers for bicycle seats.

The Lorax said Sir, you are crazy with greed.

There's no one on earth who would buy that fool Thneed.

But just that minute, I proved he was wrong,

for right at that moment, a chap came along.

And he thought that the Thneed I had knitted was was great.

And he happily bought it for three ninety eight.

I laughed at the Lorax, You poor stupid guy!

You never can tell what some people might buy.

I repeat! Cried the Lorax. I speak for the trees!

I'm busy, I told him. Shut up if you please.

I rushed cross the room, and in no time at all,

I built a radio phone. I put in a quick call.

And I called all my cousins and my uncles and aunts

and said Listen here here's a wonderful chance

for the whole Once-ler family to get mighty rich.

Get over here fast. Take the road to North Nitch.

Sharp left at Weehawken. Sharp right at South Stitch.

And in no time at all in the factory I built,

the whole Once-ler family was working full tilt.

We were all knitting Thneeds, just as busy as bees,

to the sound of the chopping of Truffula trees.

But the next week he knocked at my new office door.

I am the Lorax, who speaks for the trees

which you seem to be chopping as fast as you please.

But I'm also in charge of the brown Bar-ba-loots,

Who played in the shade eating Truffula fruits,

and happily lived in their Truffula suits.

Now thanks to your hacking their trees to the ground,

there's not enough Truffula fruit to go round,

and my poor Bar-ba-loots are all getting the crummies,

because they have gas and no food in their tummies.

Oh they loved living here but I can't let them stay,

They'll have to find food and I hope that they may.

Good luck, boys! He cried, and he sent them away.

I the Once-ler felt bad as I watched them all go,

But business is business, business must grow,

regardless of crummies in tummies, you know.

Then again he came back! I was fixing some pipes.

When that old nuisance Lorax came back with more gripes.

Once-ler! He sniffled, he snoffled, he choked.

He wiffled, he waffled, he . . .

Once-ler, you're making such smogulous smoke,

my poor Swomee-Swans, they can't sing a note.

No one can sing who has smog in his throat.

So, said the Lorax, please pardon my cough.

They cannot live here so I'm sending them off.

They may have to fly for a month or a year

to escape from the smog you've smogged-up around here.

What's more, said the Lorax. (His dander was up.)

Let me say a few words about Gluppity-Glupp.

Your machinery chugs on day and night without stop,

making Gluppity-Glupp and also Schloppity-Schlopp!

What do you do with this leftover goo?

Well I'll show you, you dirty old Once-ler man, you.

You're gumming the pond where the Humming-Fish hummed!

No more can they hum for their gills are all gummed.

So I'm sending them off. Oh, their future is dreary.

They'll walk on their fins and get woefully weary,

in search of some water it isn't so smeary.

And then I got mad.

I got terribly mad.

I yelled at the Lorax, Now listen here, dad!

All you is say bad, bad, bad!

Well I have my rights, sir.

And I'm telling you

I'm figuring on biggering, doing just what I do,

turning more Truffula trees into Thneeds.

Which everyone,

everyone,

EVERYONE needs!

And just at that moment, we heard a loud WHACK!

From outside in the fields came a sickening smack

of an axe on a tree.

Then we heard the tree fall.

The very last Trufulla Tree of them all.

No more trees. No more Thneeds.

No more work to be done.

So no time at all my aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, everyone

they all waved me goodbye.

They piled into my cars, and they

drove away under smoke smuggered stars.

All that was left 'neath the bad-smelling sky

was my big empty factory, the Lorax, and I.

The Lorax said, nothing, just gave me a glance.

Just gave me a very sad sad backward glance

as he lifted himself by the seat of his pants.

And I'll never forget the sad look on his face

as he hoisted himself and took leave of this place,

through a hole in the smog without leaving a trace.

And all that the Lorax left here in this mess,

was a small pile of rocks with the one word

UNLESS.

Whatever that meant, I just couldn't guess.

That was a long, long time ago,

but each day since that day,

I've sat here and I've worried and I've worried away.

Through the years that my factories have falling apart

I've worried about it with all of my heart.

But now, says the Once-ler, now that you're here,

the words of the Lorax seem perfectly clear

UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot,

nothing is going to better, it's not.

So, CATCH! Calls the Once-ler.

He lets something fall.

It's a Truffula seed. It's the last one of all .

You're in charge of the last of the Truffula trees.

And Truffula trees are what everyone needs!

Plant a new Truffula. Treat it with care.

Give it clean water. Feed it fresh air.

Build a forest.

Protect it from axes that hack.

And the Lorax and all of his friends

may come back.