"I am the Lorax. I
speak for the trees. I speak for the trees, for
the trees have no tongues."
"Look Lorax," I said, "there's no cause for alarm. I chopped just
one
tree, I am doing no harm."
Dr Seuss' story, The
Lorax, sums up the consequences of clear-fell
logging and the potential negative impact the logging of native
forests
will have on Victoria's water quality, including future water
restrictions. The book is being used by Doctors for Native Forests
to
get their concerns across about the health of our water catchment
areas
to State Government.
The Lorax
By Dr. Seuss
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people
say,
if you look deep enough you can still see,
today,
where the Lorax once stood
just as long as it could
before somebody lifted the Lorax away.
What was the Lorax?
Any why was it there?
And why was it lifted and taken
somewhere
from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass
grows?
The old Once-ler still lives here.
Ask him. He knows.
You won´t see the
Once-ler.
Don´t knock at his door.
He stays in his Lerkim on top of his
store.
He stays in his Lerkim, cold under the
roor,
where he makes his own clothes
out of miff-muffered moof.
And on special dank midnights in
August,
he peeks
out of the shutters
and smoetimes he speaks
and tells how the Lorax was lifted
away.
He´ll tell you, perhaps...
if you´re willing to pay.
On the end of a rope
he lets down a tin pail
and you have to toss in fifteen cents
and a nail
and the shell of a great-great-great-
grandfather snail.
Then he pulls up the
pail,
makes a most careful count
to see if you.ve paid him
the proper amount.
Then he hides what you paid
him
away in his Snuvv,
his secret strange hole
in his gruvvulous glove.
Then he grunts, I will call you by
Whisper-ma-Phone,
for the secrets I tell you are for your ears
alone.
SLUPP
Down slupps the Whisper-ma-Phone to your
ear
and the old Once-ler´s whispers are not very
clear,
since they have to come down
through a snergelly hose,
and he sounds
as if he had
smallish bees up his nose.
Now I´ll tell you, he says, with his teeth
sounding gray,
how the Lorax got lifted and taken
away...
It all started way back...
such a long, long time back...
Way back in the days when the
grass was still green
and the pond was still wet
and the clouds were still clean,
and the song of the Swomee-Swans rang out in
space...
one morning, I came to this glorious
place.
And I first saw the trees!
The Truffula Trees!
The bright-colored tufts of the Truffula
Trees!
Mile after mile in the fresh morning
breeze.
And under the trees, I saw Brown
Bar-ba-loots
frisking about in their Bar-ba-loot
suits
as the played in the shade and ate Truffula
Fruits.
From the rippulous
pond
came the comfortable sound
of the Humming-Fish humming
while splashing around.
But those trees! Those
trees!
Those Truffula Trees!
All my life I´d been searching
for trees such as these.
The touch of their tufts
was much softer than silk.
And they had the sweet smell
of fresh butterfly milk.
I felt a great leaping
of joy in my heart.
I knew just what I´d do!
I unloaded my cart.
In no time at all, I had built a
small shop.
Then I chopped down a Truffula Tree with one
chop.
And with great skillful skill and with great
speedy speed,
I took the soft tuft. And I knitted a
Thneed!
The instand I´d finished, I heard
a ga-Zump!
I looked.
I saw something pop out of the stump
of the tree I´d chopped down. It was sort of a
man.
Describe him?...That´s hard. I don´t know if I
can.
He was shortish. And
oldish.
And brownish. And mossy.
And 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´s that THING you´ve made out of my Truffula
tuft?
Look, Lorax, I said. There´s no
cause for alarm.
I chopped just one tree. I am doing no
harm.
I´m being quite useful. This thing is a
Thneed.
A Thneed´s a
Fine-Something-That-All-People-Need!
It´s a shirt. It´s a sock. It´s a glove. It´s a
hat.
But it has other uses. Yes, far beyond
that.
You can use it for carpets. For pillows! For
sheets!
Or curtains! Or covers for bicycle
seats!
The Lorax said,
Sir! You are crazy with greed.
There is no one on earth
who would buy that fool Thneed!
But the very next minute I proved
he was wrong.
For, just at that minute, a chap came
along,
and he thought that the Thneed I had knitted was
great.
He happily bought it for three
ninety-eight.
I laughed at the Lorax, You poor stupid
guy!
You never can tell what some people will
buy.
I repeat, cried the
Lorax,
I speak for the trees!
I´m busy, I told him.
Shut up, if you please.
I rushed ´cross the room, and in no time at
all,
built a radio-phone. I put in a quick
call.
I called all my brothers and uncles and
aunts
and I said, Listen here! Here´s a wonderful
chance
for the whole Once-ler Family to fet mighty
rich!
Get over here fast! Take the road to North
Nitch.
Turn left at Weehawken. Sharp right at South
Stich.
And, in no time at
all,
in the factory I built,
the whole Once-ler Family
was working full tilt.
We were all knitting Thneeds
just as busy as bees,
to the sound of the chopping
of Truffula Trees.
Then...
Oh! Baby! Oh!
How my business did grow!
Now, chopping one tree
at a time
was too slow.
So I quickly invented my
Super-Axe-Hacker
which whacked off four Truffula Trees at one
smacker.
We were making Thneeds
four times as fast as before!
And that Lorax?... He didn´t show up any
more.
But the next week
he knocked
on my new office door.
He snapped, I´m the Lorax who speaks for the
trees
which you seem to be chopping as fast as you
please.
But I´m also in charge of the Brown
Bar-ba-loots
who played in the shade in their Bar-ba-loot
suits
and happily lived, eating Truffula
Fruits.
NOW...thanks to your hacking my trees to the
ground,
there´s not enough Truffula Fruit to go
´round.
And my poor Bar-ba-loots are all getting the
crummies
because they have gas, and no food, in their
tummies!
They loved living here. But I
can´t let them stay.
They´ll have to find food. And I hope that they
may.
Good lick, boys, he cried. And he sent them
away.
I, the Once-ler, felt
sad
as I watched them all go.
BUT...
business is business!
And business must grow
regardless of crummies in tummies, you
know.
I meant no harm. I most truly did
not.
But I had to grow bigger. So bigger I
got.
I biggered my factory. I biggered my
roads.
I biggered my wagons. I biggered the
loads
of the Thneeds I shipped out. I was shipping them
forth
to the South! To the East! To the West! To the
North!
I went right on biggering...selling more
Thneeds.
And I biggered my money, which everyone
needs.
Then again he came back! I was
fixing some pipes
when that old nuisance Lorax came back with more
gripes.
I am the Lorax, he coughed and he
whiffed.
He sneezed and he snuffled. He snarggled. He
sniffed.
Once-ler! he cried with a cruffulous
croak.
Once-ler! You´re making such smogulous
smoke!
My poor Swomee-Swans...why, they can´t sing a
note!
No one can sing who has smog in his
throat.
And so, said the
Lorax,
--please pardon my cough--
they cannot live here.
So I´m sending them off.
Where will they go?...
I donÕt hopefully know.
They may have to fly for a month...or a
year...
To escape from the smog you´ve smogged-up around
here.
What´s more, snapped the Lorax.
(His dander was up.)
Let me say a few words about
Gluppity-Glupp.
Your machinery chugs on, day and night without
stop
making Gluppity-Glup. Also
Schloppity-Schlopp.
And what do you do with this leftover
goo?...
I´ll show you. You dirty old Once-ler man,
you!
You´re glumping the pond where
the Humming-Fish hummed!
No more can they hum, for their gills are all
gummed.
So I´m sending them off. Oh, their future is
dreary.
They´ll walk on their fins and get woefully
weary
in search of some water that isn´t so
smeary.
And then I got mad.
I got terribly mad.
I yelled at the Lorax, Now listen here,
Dad!
All you do is yap-yap and say, Bad! Bad! Bad!
Bad!
Well, I have my rights, sir, and I´m telling
you
I intend to go on doing just what I do!
And, for your information, you Lorax, I´m
figgering
on biggering
and BIGGERING
and BIGGERING
and BIGGERING,
turning MORE Truffula Trees into
Thneeds
which everyone, EVERYONE, EVERYONE
needs!
And at that very moment, we heard
a loud whack!
From outside in the fields came a sickening
smack
af an axe on a tree. Then we heard the tree
fall.
The very last Truffula Tree of them
all!
No more trees. No more Thneeds.
No more work to be done.
So, in no time, my uncles and aunts, every
one,
all waved my good-bye. They jumped into my
cars
and drove away under the smoke-smuggered
stars.
Now all that was left ´neath the
bad-smelling sky
was my big empty factory...
the Lorax...
and I.
The Lorax said nothing. Just gave
me a glance...
just gave me a very sad, sad backward
glance...
as he lifted himself by the seat of his
pants.
And I´ll never forget the grim look on his
face
when he heisted himself and took leave of this
place,
through a hole in the smog, without leaving a
trace.
And all that the Lorax left here
in this mess
was a small pile of rocks, with one
word...
UNLESS.
Whatever that meant, well, I just couldn´t
guess.
That was long, long
ago.
But each day since that day
I´ve sat here and worried
and worried away.
Through the years, while my buildings
have fallen apart,
I´ve worried about it
with all of my heart.
But now, says the
Once-ler,
Now that you´re here,
the word of the Lorax seems perfectly
clear.
UNLESS someone like you
cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better.
It´s not.
SO...
Catch! calls the Once-ler.
He lets something fall.
It´s a Truffula Seed.
It´s the last one of all!
You´re in charge of the last of the Truffula
Seeds.
And Truffula Trees are what everyone
needs.
Plant a new Truffula. Treat it with
care.
Give it clean water. And feed it fresh
air.
Grow a forest. Protect it from axes that
hack.
Then the Lorax
and all of his friends
may come back.