I think Dr. Seuss' "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" is one of the best Christmas shows ever produced. When I was little, I looked forward to watching it on TV every year, and now I look forward to watching it on DVD (sans commercials!) every year. I also have the book, which I read to my kids throughout the holiday season.

Purists may prefer the book because it came first, but I actually prefer the animated TV version, and part of the reason is the music. I love watching the Whos join hands and start singing on Christmas Day (even after the Grinch has stolen everything from their homes) and I especially love the Grinch theme song, "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch." The song was written by Dr. Seuss and Albert Hague and was performed by Thurl Ravenscroft, who received no screen credit for the singing. According to IMDB, Dr. Seuss attempted to rectify the oversight "by sending letters to every major columnist in America identifying Ravenscroft as the singer on 'You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch'."

If you've ever wondered about the lyrics, here they are. Now feel free to sing along!

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.

You’re a vile one, Mr. Grinch.
You have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness
Of a seasick crocodile.
Mr. Grinch.

Given the choice between the two of you
I’d take the seasick crocodile.

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, and I quote: “Stink. Stank. Stunk.”

You’re a rotter, Mr. Grinch.
You’re the king of sinful sots.
Your heart’s a dead tomato splot
With moldy purple spots,
Mr. Grinch.

Your soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing
with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable
rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up knots.

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.