The Winter Olympics might better be called
“The Quadrennial Sliding on Ice”.
For athletes who’ve ever slip-slided and falled
Such a truthful new name might be nice.
Take skiing: down snow-covered slopes? Right, as if –
Well, unless some freak snowstorm blows by.
No, instead it’s a vertical ice-covered cliff
Which makes foot-winged fools think they can fly.
Now, hockey and curling (whatever that is)
We expect will be played upon ice,
Which at least we pretend has been naturally friz –
As long as we don’t hear the price.
And in short track, contestants are s’posedta fall down –
At least, that’s how it sure seems to me,
And the one who receives the gold medal’s the clown
Who came through all the wipeouts scot-free.
But bobsled and luge – yes, and skeleton, too –
Race down an ice-covered chute
Resembling little what young I and you
Tobogganed in days of our yout’.
And the half pipe is not just a sluice that’s been sliced
And left out to fill up with snow;
I’d ask how its inside got so smoothly iced…
But don’t tell me; I don’t want to know.
Remember when venues were always outdoors
In conditions oft less than appealing?
Mark my words: the day’s coming when even the course
For biathlon is under a ceiling.