Song – Super Skier’s Last Race
WRITER
- Bob Gibson
- Jack Holzman
- Mark Abramson
PUBLISHER(S)
- Robert Josiah Music
- Sanga Music
RECORDINGS BY OTHER ARTISTS
- None
LYRIC
Super Skier's Last Race
The starter cried
“Is everybody ready for the race”
Our super skier shouted
“Yes!” and kick turned into place
Then boldly waved to all his friends
A smirk upon his face
Well he ain’t gonna ski no more
He yawned at his opponents
Said the race was good as won
He’d ski the course blind folded
Just to add a bit of fun
With bandaged eyes he jetted off
Till his bindings came undone
Well he ain’t gonna ski no more
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die
Gory, gory, who’s that nitwit tryin’ to fly
Gory, gory, it’s enough to make you cry
Well he ain’t gonna ski no more
He felt the wind, he felt the cold
He felt the sudden drop
He tried to stem, he tried to check
And then he tried to stop
His fatal error dawned on him
He should have stayed up top
Well he ain’t gonna ski no more
He hit each pole that set the course
And twelve spectators too
Came roarin’ through the finish
Wearin’ garlands of bamboo
Two were killed and four were hurt
And six were black and blue
Well he ain’t gonna race no more
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die
Gory, gory, it’s a sport I’ll never try
Gory, gory, it’s enough to make you cry
Well he ain’t gonna ski no more
There was crimson on his bindings
There were brains upon his suit
Intestines were a-hangin’ from the treetops to the roots
We scraped him up from off the snow
And poured him from his boots
Well he ain’t gonna ski no more
They took him to the hospital
And fixed him up real great
But took off all his arms and legs
A sad and lonely fate
Now he’s working in an office
Hired as a paperweight
Well he ain’t gonna ski no more
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die
Gory, gory, let us raise our glasses high
Gory, gory, now he’s in Saint Peter’s sky
And he ain’t gonna ski no more
So skiers, hear my warning
Lest you buy a pair of skis
Why take a chance on cracking up
Or risking a deepfreeze
There’s quicker, slicker ways to go
All guaranteed to please
And we ain’t gonna ski no more
Gory, gory, who’s that birdbrain in the sky
Gory, gory, it’s a sport I’ll never try
Gory, gory, I am much too young to die sky
And I ain’t gonna ski no more
And I ain’t gonna ski no more
Words & music by Bob Gibson, Jack Holzman and Mark Abramson
© Robert Josiah Music / Sanga