In a town known as Whoville, nestled snug in the snow, Lived a Grinch on Mount Crumpit, where no one would go. He watched from his cave with a heart full of ache, As the Whos down in Whoville prepared for their sake.
Each year, Christmas came with a grand, noisy cheer, But the Grinch felt no joy, only heartache and fear. For while the Whos gathered, their hearts warm and gay, The Grinch remembered a puppy, tossed carelessly away.
"Why do they celebrate with such festive delight? Don't they see the pain that comes with the night?" He grumbled and muttered, his heart feeling tight, As he watched the Whos celebrate from morning to night.
The story began one cold Christmas Eve, When the Grinch found a puppy, abandoned to grieve. A little dog, shivering, with eyes full of plea, Left alone in the cold, no home for to be.
The Grinch took him in, gave him warmth and a name, Called him Max, and together they overcame. But the Grinch's heart ached, for he never forgot, How the Whos' careless act had left such a blot.
He watched as the Whos, in their festive parade, Forgot the forgotten, those castaways they made. The simple pleasure of a day full of cheer, Was shadowed by memories of that pup so dear.
The Grinch's heart ached as he sat in his lair, Watching the joy spread everywhere. And so, from that perch, he continued to see, A holiday marred by a painful history.