Ski Song

Packs on our backs and the wind in our faces, Alluring there comes the faint urge of the north Where wreathed in a mantel of glistening white The northland's broad acres are calling tonight.

Gliding and sliding and easily riding Over the hillocks we fly like the wind Flashing and dashing, the cold white trees passing, Racing and coursing and fast as the wind. . . .

Over the road we are coursing along, Breasting the wind and the white curling snow Straining we push up the hillside's long slope And lithely we race to the valleys below.

Sliding and gliding and easily riding Down from the summits as fast as the wind. Flashing and dashing, the sleepy farms passing Racing along as we fly fast as wind. . . .

High in the heavens above us the moon Sends down its beams to the glistening snow, Twinkling cold stars in the heavens' blue void As diamonds are mirrored on the cold earth below.

Gliding and sliding and singing the while Whistling away with the merry north wind Joy in our hearts and the thrill in our pulses, Carefree we're flying as fast as the wind. . .

Stretches there are when the men single file Silently follow the roadway along Deep in the woods then, the night reigns supremely Save for the hum of the crunching skis' song.

Hail to the winter, ye men who have dared it! Skoal! for the call of the northland's cold snows, Hail to the frost and the whistling north winds! Skoal! for the call of the biting white snows. . .

A crouch and away o'er the chasms we leap, Zzzzzz! and we're shooting like birds through the air, Shrill the wind whistles, and sings in our ears, Thrilling the men who the northland's call dare.

Hail to the joy of the pack on the shoulder, Skoal! for the thrill of the hills that are free, Hail to the jumps and the quick-beating pulses, Skoal! for the call of the northland and ski!