Crappy, Crappy Skate
by David Fraser

(Apologies to Don McLean)


Crappy crappy skate, popped your axels left and right
Fell down on a back sitspin with arms that hit the referee
Laughter in the stands, flip the bird to your shocked parents
Missed the loop and the triple flip, did spirals on the flat of your blade.


Now I understand what jumps you fell on
How your coach lost his sanity; how you drove him round the bend.
Judges would not watch it, hid their eyes somehow, perhaps they'll vomit now.


Sappy, sappy skates, falling over the flower girls
Swirling spins in awkward ways that reflect on Ottavio's eyes of blue
Costume falling down, mourning fans in deepest black
Weathered laces twined in straps were caught beneath the skater's rusty blade.


Chorus:


For they could not cheer, but still your skate went on.
And when no jumps were landed right, in that crappy, crappy skate
You'd left your guards on as you often do.
But I could not have judged you,
This ISU was never meant for a super klutz like you.


Floppy, floppy skate, flutzes after many waxels
Aimless spins that travelled on, with laybacks that go back too far
and can't return
Like the artist you've never been, Wanda Beazel in ragged tights
The peroxide hair o'er bloody nose, lie crushed and broken on the squiming ice.


Now I think I know your choreographer
How she suffered your inanity, How you tried to ruin her style
Judges would not watch it, hid their eyes somehow, perhaps they'll vomit now.

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