Song – Ski Patrol

Now every sport has got its patron saint
With whom it is, without it ain’t
Foot pads have their Doctor Scholl
Socialists have G.H. Cole
Boston has its Cabot and Lowell
Skiing has its Minot Dole

Now what is he the father of
It’s not free wine, it’s not free love
He didn’t find the Dead Sea Scroll
He didn’t invent the casserole
Or even the original jellyroll
He created the ski patrol

Spoken:
Tell me, what is this ski patrol
That you give such honor to Minot Dole

She doesn’t know about the ski patrol
She doesn’t know about Minot Dole
She doesn’t know about the ski patrol
She doesn’t know about the ski patrol
Or Minot Dole and the ski patrol
Minot Dole and the ski patrol

You’re skiing along and a tree hits you hard
There is no brandy and no Saint Bernard
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol

You’re on the ski lift half way up the slope
Instead of a cable there hangs a frayed rope
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol

The powder’s so thick that it frosted your glass
But skiing does far more than this to your ankles
The number of spills are statistic’ly few
But tell me who’s counting when one of them’s you
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol

You’re schussing along and the sky is so blue
A runaway ski just divides you in two
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol

You’re at the summit, a blistering breeze
The hill is sheer ice, the wrong wax on your skis
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol

You meet a lassie who really can shake it
But when you’re on skis even Errol can’t make it
You got a good start then a mile from the top
You recall you forgot how they taught you to stop
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol

The number of spills are statistic’ly few
But tell me who’s counting when one of them’s you
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol
Yell for the ski patrol

Words & music by Bob Gibson, Jim Fuerst and Hans Wehrman
© Robert Josiah / Sanga