Lock up your tinsel! Your joy and good cheer!
For the chill that’s set in marks that Grinch time of year.

And through his flimflam, the noise and the dreck
Is a path down the mountain where the Grinch makes his trek.

But where will he go this year in our city?
Where else can he ruin with goonish self-pity?

The answer is hidden ‘neath the whitest of snow
But a mouse with a shovel can show what’s below.