The Story of Mary's Slide
Posted: Thu Aug 04, 2016 7:15 pm
Another Hotham poem, this time one from the archives.
I remember being especially proud of the third verse - a total lack of rhyme, as a metaphor for the out-of-control slide!
The Story Of Mary’s Slide
There’s a ski slope near Mount Hotham that is known as Mary’s Slide.
A little off the beaten track, it makes the strong feel weak.
It’s steep and very icy. At its tops its smooth and wide.
Then it narrows to a funnel, and it drops to Swindler’s Creek.
I often used to ski it, and I often used to wonder,
Who on Earth was Mary, and just what was her slide?
Down the left, or down the middle did she make her famous blunder?
(I was sure I would have heard if she’d been injured, or she’d died.)
Did she slide down on her belly? Did she slide down on her back?
Which, her head or feet, was travelling first?
Or did she slide down sideways? Or did she slowly spin?
And what exactly happened at the bottom?
Well, I now know who was Mary. We have spoken on the phone,
And she told me, very sweetly, that she didn’t slide at all!
She often used to ski this slope. (I tell you, I was thrown!)
Not only did she fail to slide, she didn’t even fall!
For in her younger days she’d been a very able skier.
A regular at Hotham, she had skied with skill and pride,
And she told me how, one day, while skiing homewards, in good cheer,
Her confabulating colleague had dreamed up this fabled slide!
Well. If ever any ski-slope spawned a slide, then this was it!
Accuse me, if you like, of opting out of life’s dull grind,
Of not accepting facts. I tell you, I don’t mind a bit!
For I much prefer the version I have pictured in my mind!
© Stephen Whiteside 19.03.90
I remember being especially proud of the third verse - a total lack of rhyme, as a metaphor for the out-of-control slide!
The Story Of Mary’s Slide
There’s a ski slope near Mount Hotham that is known as Mary’s Slide.
A little off the beaten track, it makes the strong feel weak.
It’s steep and very icy. At its tops its smooth and wide.
Then it narrows to a funnel, and it drops to Swindler’s Creek.
I often used to ski it, and I often used to wonder,
Who on Earth was Mary, and just what was her slide?
Down the left, or down the middle did she make her famous blunder?
(I was sure I would have heard if she’d been injured, or she’d died.)
Did she slide down on her belly? Did she slide down on her back?
Which, her head or feet, was travelling first?
Or did she slide down sideways? Or did she slowly spin?
And what exactly happened at the bottom?
Well, I now know who was Mary. We have spoken on the phone,
And she told me, very sweetly, that she didn’t slide at all!
She often used to ski this slope. (I tell you, I was thrown!)
Not only did she fail to slide, she didn’t even fall!
For in her younger days she’d been a very able skier.
A regular at Hotham, she had skied with skill and pride,
And she told me how, one day, while skiing homewards, in good cheer,
Her confabulating colleague had dreamed up this fabled slide!
Well. If ever any ski-slope spawned a slide, then this was it!
Accuse me, if you like, of opting out of life’s dull grind,
Of not accepting facts. I tell you, I don’t mind a bit!
For I much prefer the version I have pictured in my mind!
© Stephen Whiteside 19.03.90