We all say a prayer for white stuff,
‘Cause skiing on leaves can be tough,
We’re up to our pits,
Or can I say tits,
Snow Dancers, OK, that’s enough.
Low temperatures quickly get old,
Treat mild days as if they were gold,
If you stop to eat,
You soon will beat feet,
Nobody likes to ski cold.
An old fashioned winter is here,
Most watch their TV and drink beer,
We’re not into that,
We slide skis and chat,
And that’s why we live around here!!!!!!
Jim wanted to host the whole pack,
He just never saw the attack,
He went into town,
Came home and laid down,
A whole week he’s flat on his back.
– Jim Goodine