I am the Lorax and I speak for the trees,
If you chop my trees, then I'll break your knees,
And spray you with Febreze and send you overseas in the five big seas.
I speak for the branches, the leaves, and the bumblebee,
And I will protect them, as you soon will see.
You cannot just cut down whatever is free,
Without paying a massive, painful fee.
So pack up your axe and just let the woods be,
Or you will be running away from me.

For every single bird and every small flea,
I stand as the guardian, full of glee.
So surrender your blade and drop to your knee,
Because you cannot escape my decree.
I’ll lock up your chainsaw and throw out the key,
Then banish you straight to a distant debris-filled sea.
You’ll look at the stump and you’ll sadly agree,
That nobody messes with a magical tree.

You thought you could log on a wild chopping spree,
And clear out the woods for a small property.
But I will block you, that’s my guarantee,
And send you away from my woodland with glee.
You’ll try to explain, “But the timber’s for me!”
And I’ll point at the forest and say, “Not for thee!”
You’ll stare at the branches and then you will see,
That every last tree has a guardian: me.

You’ll pick up your axe and prepare to flee,
But a squirrel will appear from behind a tree.
A rabbit will hop up and stare at thee,
While a bird in the branches begins counting to three.
The foxes will gather and chirp happily,
The bees will buzz loudly and fly in a spree,
And all of the creatures will shout in decree,
“Protect every forest and every tree!”

You’ll run to your truck and attempt to flee,
But your tires are covered in mud, you see.
You’ll push and you’ll pull and you’ll yell desperately,
While I stand by the roadside and laugh with glee.
You’ll ask me politely, “Can you help me, please?”
I’ll say, “Maybe after you apologize to the trees.”
You’ll sigh and surrender and fall to your knees,
While I hand you a bill for a thousand more trees.

You’ll pay an enormous environmental fee,
Then plant them all underneath every tree.
You’ll carry the saplings from sea to sea,
And plant them wherever the land should be.
You’ll dig up the soil and count carefully,
Then water each sapling quite generously.
You’ll say, “I am tired!” and I’ll answer with glee,
“Then plant one more tree, and you’ll soon be free!”

I’ll call up a strike from a wild chimpanzee,
Who will pelt you with dirt while you try to flee.
The chimp will wear boots and a hat with a bee,
And carry a clipboard marked “FORESTRY.”
He’ll check every branch and inspect every tree,
Then write down your name in his notebook with glee.
He’ll point at your axe and say, “Hand that to me!”
Then toss it away and declare, “You are free!”

You’ll blow your little whistle and call a referee,
But there are no sports rules in my forest, you see!
The squirrels will mock you and chatter with glee,
As they throw heavy pinecones right into your tea.
A robin will whistle an annoying key,
And a crow will yell loudly, “You’re not allowed to be!”
A frog will jump up from a nearby debris,
And loudly announce, “Protect every tree!”

I’ll lock you in jail and won’t grant you parolee,
While a giant bear stares at you eating some brie.
You’ll ask the bear, “Why are you staring at me?”
The bear will just shrug and continue his tea.
You’ll sit in the corner and count to three,
While the squirrels outside celebrate with glee.
You’ll ask for a lawyer, a judge, and a key,
But the judge is a beaver who lives in a tree.

You’ll be trapped with a grumpy, annoyed nominee,
And a highly confused college trainee.
One thinks he’s a genius, one thinks he’s a bee,
And neither can figure out how to disagree.
They’ll argue for hours about forestry,
While I sit in the corner and drink some iced tea.
Then I’ll give you homework on biodiversity,
And tell you to finish it before you can flee.

I’ll force you to study a complex degree,
About how to care for a tropical tree.
You’ll learn about roots and the soil underneath,
And why every forest is useful to thee.
You’ll memorize facts about every bee,
Then write an essay on ecology.
You’ll study the branches and photosynthesis-y,
Until you can explain it correctly to me.

Then I’ll hire a dancing, confused devotee,
To jump up and down on your ankle and knee.
He’ll dance through the forest with terrible glee,
While seventeen squirrels all sing out of key.
He’ll spin in a circle beside a big tree,
Then trip on a root and fall dramatically.
He’ll stand up again and shout, “Look at me!”
Then dance even faster beside the bee.

You act like a boss, but you're just an employee,
Who got left in the woods by an absentee.
You thought you were powerful, mighty, and free,
But now you are arguing with little old me.
You thought you could chop every tree that you see,
But you forgot that the forest belongs to the tree.
You came with a chainsaw and thought you were free,
But now you’re surrounded by birds and by me.

I’ll file a report with the forestry committee,
And lock you away in a small shantytown-tee.
I’ll make you the forest’s official trustee,
And force you to serve every single grandee.
You’ll sign a big contract and pay a consignee,
Then swear an oath like a loyal legatee.
You’ll promise to protect every plant and every tree,
And I’ll make you repeat it from A all the way to Z.

You think you are high-class with pure pedigree,
But you are just a classic logging interfer-ee.
You march through the forest with arrogance and glee,
But the trees are much wiser than you’ll ever be.
You think you’re the king of the forestry,
But I am the Lorax, protector of thee.
You think that the forest is yours to decree,
But nature has rights, and those rights include me.

If you don't drop that axe and immediately flee,
You’ll spend all your days planting trees for free.
You’ll dig every hole from the land to the sea,
And plant every sapling that comes after three.
You’ll water the seedlings at half after three,
Then check every branch for a possible bee.
You’ll measure the growth of each tiny tree,
And write down the numbers for inspection by me.

You’ll scream at the sky for a quick jubilee,
But I am the ruler, the grand appointee.
You’ll wave your arms and yell desperately,
But the forest will answer with one giant “WHEE!”
The squirrels will dance and the birds will agree,
The rabbits will hop around happily.
And every creature from land to sea
Will celebrate loudly for every new tree.

You’ll try to escape through the old apple tree,
But a branch will fall down directly in front of thee.
You’ll turn left and run toward the sea,
But a flock of confused geese will block your spree.
You’ll turn right and run through the greenery,
Only to find seventeen bees waiting for thee.
You’ll run back around and attempt to flee,
Only to trip on a root belonging to me.

You’ll shout, “This is madness! Just let me be!”
I’ll answer, “The madness is chopping a tree!”
You’ll say, “But I need wood!” and I’ll say, “Then agree
To plant twice as many as you cut down, you see.”
You’ll scratch your head and stare blankly at me,
Then finally nod with reluctant glee.
You’ll grab your shovel and kneel by a tree,
And start planting saplings responsibly.

You’ll plant one for the robin and one for the bee,
One for the squirrel and one for the flea.
One for the rabbit who lives peacefully,
And one for the fox who keeps watching me.
One for the owl who sleeps during the day,
One for the deer who comes wandering free.
One for the creatures beneath the old tree,
And one for the Lorax—yes, that one’s for me.

Then years will pass and the seedlings will be
Tall little saplings becoming a tree.
The branches will stretch toward the sky happily,
And birds will return to their homes peacefully.
The bees will return and buzz busily,
The squirrels will return and chatter with glee.
The forest will grow as it naturally should be,
And everyone there will be living free.

You’ll finally look around and understand me,
You’ll finally realize what a forest can be.
It isn’t just timber or lumber for thee,
It’s homes for the creatures and food for the bee.
It’s shade for the animals underneath every tree,
It’s clean air and water for you and for me.
It’s roots in the ground holding soil carefully,
And branches that reach toward the sky endlessly.

So put down your axe and step back from the tree,
And listen closely to my final decree.
You can build your house, but responsibly,
You can use some wood, but sustainably.
Just don’t take everything greedily,
And leave the whole forest as empty debris.

For every great forest begins with a tree,
And every great tree begins tiny, you see.
A seed becomes sprout, and a sprout grows freely,
Until one day it’s tall as can possibly be.
Then birds make their nests in its branches happily,
And bees find their flowers and buzz busily.
The forest becomes what it always should be,
A wonderful home for the world’s biodiversity.

So look at my face and completely agree,
That you never should touch a magnificent tree.
You thought you could chop it down easily,
But now you know better because you met me.

I am the Lorax and I speak for the trees,
I speak for the branches and buzzing bees.
I speak for the creatures that wander free,
I speak for the forests from sea to sea.
I speak for the roots beneath every tree,
I speak for the birds that sing happily.
I speak for the flowers that bloom peacefully,
And I’ll keep on speaking as long as need be.

So surrender your blade and drop to your knee,
Put down your chainsaw and let nature be.
Plant something new and protect every tree,
And maybe someday you’ll earn some tea from me.

But if you return with an axe after three,
I’ll point at the forest and yell, “FLEE!”
The squirrels will assemble with terrible glee,
The birds will all shout in harmony.
The bees will buzz loudly from tree to tree,
And I’ll stand at the front as proudly as can be.

Because I am the Lorax, protector of thee,
The guardian, defender, and voice of the tree.
And if you chop down my trees, just wait and see—
You’ll have to answer to ME!