He was shortish and oldish and brownish and mossy.
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…”
he was very upset as he shouted and puffed,
” What is that THING you’ve made out of my Truffula tuft?”
Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax
