Pissed On The Piste

For skiing in Tignes, 

At minus degrees 

Champagne really seemed like the answer 

It loosens the knees 

So that turns come with ease 

And you’re gliding around like a dancer 


But then come to a lift 

And your brains gone adrift 

Your legs are no longer behaving 

And suddenly the bubbles 

Have got us in trouble 

We’re well and truly pissed on the piste


Legs dangling from the chair 

Way up in the air 

The booze has gone straight to our heads 

It all seemed quite funny 

At least it is sunny 

It’s time I was put on the meds 


It seemed like a good idea 

Skiing without gear 

Just a bikini, some socks and a hat 

But it’s really quite chilly 

In hindsight very silly 

And I looked like a bit of a prat 


The outcome you’re thinking from such foolish drinking

Would be to learn and not do it again 

But I find such pleasure 

In daytime endeavours 

That I find myself reaching for red 


So goodbye to carving 

Parallel turns are just alarming 

Talent turns purely to snowplough 

At least we can stop 

At the bottom, and if not 

We’ll simply end up at the bar 

3 thoughts on “Pissed On The Piste

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