"Is everybody ready?" cried the starter, looking up,
Our hero feebly answered "Yes" and then we stood him up.
He started booming down the trail, but his bindings were
unhooked,
And he ain't gonna race no more.

Gory, gory, what a heck-of-a-way to die,
Gory, gory, what a heck-of-a-way to die,
Gory, gory, what a heck-of-a-way to die,
Oh, he ain't gonna race no more.

He felt the wind, he felt the cold, he felt the sudden drop.
He tried to stem, he tried to check, and then he tried to
stop.
A sudden bang, a terrible crash, a horrible rush of blood,
Well, he ain't gonna race no more.

There was blood upon the bindings, there were brains upon his
skis,
Intestines were a-hangin' from the highest of the trees.
We scraped him up from off the snow and poured him from his
boots,
Well, he ain't gonna race no more.