‘I am the Kook,’ 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 ski friends... why, they can't shout stoke!
No one can sing who has Salt Lake smog in his throat.