k.d. lang | Will Schuester All the windows were dark. No one knew he was there. All the Whos were all dreaming sweet dreams without care. 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 All I need is a reindeer! So he took his dog Max, and he took some black thread, And he tied a big horn on the top of his head. Then the Grinch said, "Giddyup!" and the sleigh started down, To the homes where the Whos lay a-snooze in their town. "This is stop number one," the old Grinchy Claus hissed As she climbed to the roof, empty bags in her fist. Then he slid down the chimney, a rather tight pinch. But if Santa could do it, then so could the Grinch. Then he slithered and slunked, with a smile most unpleasant, Around the whole room, and took every present. Pop-guns! [?]! And cookies! And Drums! Checkerboards! [?]! Popcorn! And plums! And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Grinch, very nimbly, Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney. 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 nauseate me, Mr. Grinch With a nauseous super-naus You're a crooked jerky jockey, and you drive a crooked horse Mr. Grinch, you're a three-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce