A CHAIR RIDE Before Christmas

'Twas a chair ride before Christmas, when down from a cloud,
Big snow-flakes came falling, and branches were bowed.
My long boards were waxed by the mantle with care,
In hopes that deep powder soon would be here;
The ski-bums were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of face-shots danced in their heads;
And I, in my ski-boots, for a novel nightcap,
Had just settled too, for a long winter's nap. 
. . . When, deep in a dream, there arose such a virgin,
I mounted a chair-lift, to satisfy my urgin': 
Way up on the mount, I rose like an eagle,
Through the forest so white, 'cause of snow, oh, so regal;
When, what to my widening eyes should appear?--
--But a wide open bowl, and-- . . . I emoted a tear. 
. . . Soon there I found myself reaching the summit,
With goggles and snorkel all set now to plummet;
Adrenalin flowing as I jumped off the cornice,
I knew that, with Heaven, this must be the nexus;
And, boy, let me tell you, in this powder-filled bowl,
I knew, in a pole-plant, . . . I had just found my soul. . . . 
But, during these first turns, though I had not a care,
The snow here got so deep! I got gasping for air!
For, when you've found new love in blazing that cold smoke,
You get gasping so hard, it can make a man so choke. 
--More rapid than reindeer, on long boards I came--
As I rode them I shouted and called them by name:
"Now, Fischer! Now, Volkl! Now, Spalding! and Hanson!
On, Rossi! On K2! On, Hart Ski! and Olin! 
To the top of the lift!  To the top of it all! 
Now, Ski Away! Ski Away! Ski Away, All!
. . . Too soon there, I found myself reaching the bottom,
Where I met with the lift-man, whose job is to load 'em:
As I took off my pole-straps and was turning around,
I got a nod from the lift-man, as he made not a sound;
I too spoke not a word, with my head gave a quirk,
And was then on his chair as I sat with a jerk--
But I heard him exclaim . . . as I rose out of sight:
"Happy Skiing, To All! . . . And, To All, . . . A Good Chair Ride!"