Remove star

McBean's handy machine

Working very precisely

Removed all the stars from their tummies quite nicely.

Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about

And they opened their beaks and they let out a shout,

"We know who is who! Now there isn't a doubt.

The best kind of Sneetches are Sneetches without!"

Then, of course, those with stars all got frightfully mad.

To be wearing a star now was frightfully bad.

Then, of course, old Sylvester McMonkey McBean

Invited them into his Star-Off Machine.

Then of course from THEN on, as you probably guess,

Things really got into a horrible mess.

Off again! On again!

In again! Out again!

Through the machines they raced round and about again,

Changing their stars every minute or two.

They kept paying money. They kept running through

Until neither the Plain nor the Star-Bellies knew

Whether this one was that one... or that one was this one

Or which one was what one... or what one was who.

So now tell me, young sneetch, what will you do?

Do you keep paying money, keep running through?

Or do you leave this old man alone,

Or fight back against him and take back your home?