Now the Core-bellied Sneetches had bellies with cores.
The Apostate Sneetches had none upon thors.
The cores weren't so big; they were really quite small.
You would think such a thing wouldn't matter at all.
But because they had cores, all the Core-bellied Sneetches
would brag, "We're the best kind of Sneetch on the beaches."

With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they'd snort,
“We'll have nothing to do with the apostate sort."
And whenever they met some, when they were out walking,
they'd hike right on past them without even talking.

When the Core-bellied children went out to play ball,
could the Plain-bellies join in their game? Not at all!
You could only play ball if your bellies had cores,
and the Apostate children had none upon thors.

When the Core-bellied Sneetches had frankfurter roasts,
or picnics or parties or marshmallow toasts,
they never invited the Apostate Sneetches.
Left them out cold in the dark of the beaches.
Kept them away; never let them come near,
and that's how they treated them year after year.

Then one day, it seems, while the Apostate Sneetches
were moping, just moping alone on the beaches,
sitting there, wishing their bellies had cores,
up zipped a stranger with the strangest of cause.

"My friends," he announced in a voice clear and keen,
"My name is D-Doctor M-Moojan Mo-men.
I've heard of your troubles; I've heard you're unhappy.
But I can fix that; I'm the fix-it-up chappie.
I've come here to help you; I have what you need.
My prices are low, and I work with great speed,
and my work is one hundred per cent guaranteed."

Then quickly, D-Doctor M-Moojan Mo-men
put together a very peculiar machine.
Then he said, "You want cores like a Core-bellied Sneetch?
My friends, you can have them . . . . for three dollars each.
Just hand me your money and climb on aboard."

They clambered inside and the big machine roared.
It bonked. It clonked. It jerked. It berked.
It bopped them around, but the thing really worked.
When the Apostate Sneetches popped out, they had cores!
They actually did, they had cores upon thors!

Then they yelled at the ones who had cores from the start,
"We're exactly like you; you can't tell us apart.
We're all just the same now, you snooty old smarties.
Now we can come to your frankfurter parties!"

"Good grief!" groaned the ones who had cores from the first.
"We're still the best Sneetches, and they are the worst.
But how in the world will we know," they all frowned,
"if which kind is what or the other way 'round?"

Then up stepped Mo-men with a very sly wink, and he said,
"Things are not quite as bad as you think.
You don't know who's who, that is perfectly true.
But come with me, friends, do you know what I'll do?
I'll make you again the best Sneetches on beaches,
and all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches.

"Belly cores are no longer in style," said Mo-men.
"What you need is a trip through my cores-off machine.
This wondrous contraption will take off your cores,
so you won't look like Sneetches who have them on thors."

That handy machine, working very precisely,
removed all the cores from their bellies quite nicely.
Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about.
They opened their beaks and proceeded to shout,
"We now know who's who, and there isn't a doubt,
the best kind of Sneetches are Sneetches without."

Then, of course those with cores all got frightfully mad.
To be wearing a core now was frightfully bad.
Then, of course old D-Doctor M-Moojan Mo-men
invited them into his cores-off machine.
Then, of course from then on, you can probably guess,
things really got into a horrible mess.

All the rest of the day on those wild screaming beaches,
the Fix-it-up-Chappie was fixing up Sneetches.
Off again, on again, in again, out again,
through the machine and back round about again,
still paying money, still running through,
changing their cores every minute or two,
until neither the Plain- nor the Core-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!

Then, when every last cent of their money was spent,
the Fix-It-Up-Chappie packed up and he went.
And he laughed as he drove in his car up the beach,
"They never will learn; no, you can't teach a Sneetch!"

But Mo-men was quite wrong, I'm quite happy to say,
the Sneetches got quite a bit smarter that day.
That day, they decided that Sneetches are Sneetches,
and no kind of Sneetch is the BEST on the beaches.
That day, all the Sneetches forgot about cores,
and whether they had one or not upon thors.

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