The Outlook wasn’t brilliant for the ski season that year:
It was a cold, dry January, and fans’ hearts burned with fear.
And when the weather people called for snow, and skiers wished the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the Adirondacks when the snow never really came.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only one big Nor’easter would come up the coast –
We’d put up even money, now, with a big storm about which to boast.
But rain preceded cold, as did also warmth and mud,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a dud;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy came,
For there seemed but little chance of seeing snow, and more likely only rain.
But a quick clipper storm brought 3 inches, to the wonderment of all,
And weathermen, the much despised, said 6-8 inches more is the call;
And when the dark had lifted, and the skiers realized snow was there,
There were 10 inches of freshies on the ground, which was considered more than fair.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For snow, mighty snow, had made the skiing phat.
Oh, everywhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing in Lake Placid, and Adirondack hearts are light,
And on the ski hill men are laughing, and in the lounge drink beer;
There is tons of joy in Lake Placid - ski season at last is here.
With humble apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer.