Dr. Seuss — Grickle Grass

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 Grickle-grass, Grickle-grass Street of the Lifted Lorax Grickle-grass, Grickle-grass Somebody lifted the Lorax away