A short time ago, on top of Mt. Lookout,
Lived a Grinch who maintained a very
poor outlook.
His outlook was broad, he could see near
and far,
but the problem was he loathed all he saw.
And he loathed nothing more than the Whos
down in Scopeville.
The Grinch hated them all, all their
scopes
and their ladders,
all their tents and red flashlights and
filters and mirrors.
He hated their tools for enhancing their
sight,
And he hated most of all that they'd carry
on all night.
Each year the Grinch sat on top of Mt.
Lookout,
outlooking the looks he'd be seeing in Scopeville.
He sat and he watched and he sat sat sat
sat.
From the tops of his toes to the bottom
of his hat,
the Grinch hated those Whos. Then he said,
"That is That!
Those Whos got to go! They must go nothing
flat!"
So he slithered down Mt. Lookout with his
best chainsaw Mac,
to the middle of Scopeville, where he began
his attack.
He began at once on the tree they call Rob,
"Cut it down," the Grinch thought, "Cut
it down to a knob."
So he sawed and he sawed and he sawed
sawed
sawed sawed
and down the tree came, and he left with
a nod.
"That'll stop them," he sneered, "They'll
never come back!
When they round that bend, they'll have
heart attacks!"
Back on Mt. Lookout, the Grinch waited with
glee to see all those Whos crying over a tree.
But the Whos came back, they came back in
packs!
They clearly, quite clearly, had no heart
attacks.
They came back with their scopes and their
ladders and charts,
red flashlights, tents, and binocular parts.
They even brought vendors selling espresso
and snacks!
The Grinch was stunned, he was stunned to
the core, then he thought,
"Maybe, just maybe, the OSP means a bit
more."