I'm from the north shore,

My name's McGrath,

I've got stocks and skis,

On the roof of my car,

They're permanently welded, I don't ski very far,

Because I'm an Apres skier.

Each year in July,

It's four weeks off work,

I go down the snow,

And act like a jerk,

Up and down the Alpine Way,

Cruising in my Merc,

Of course I'm an Apres skier.

CHORUS:

Well I don't like downhill,

Or cross country treks,

They go out fit men,

And they come back like wrecks,

I only go to Thredbo,

Because I'm after sex,

They call that an Apres skier.

With Swiss-made gloves,

And bib and brace,

I bought all this gear,

From the most expensive place,

I always look so trendy,

And set the fashion pace,

Thats normal for Apres skiers.

CHORUS:

Well I don't ...

The seasons gone,

I pack up my gear,

Then down to the pub,

For one final beer,

I haven't skied an inch,

I'll be back again next year,

That makes me an Apres skier.