Luyện nghe bài hát The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

The legend on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they Gitche Gumee
The lake, it is said, never up her dead
When the skies of turn gloomy
With a load of ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Fitzgerald weighed empty
[Former version:] That good ship and true was a to be chewed
[Latter version:] That good ship and was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of came early

The was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in
As the big freighters go, it was than most
With a and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for
Then later that when the ship's bell rang
it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a sound
the wave broke over the railing
And man knew, as the captain did too
'Twas the witch of November stealin'
The dawn came and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came
When afternoon it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane wind

When suppertime came, the old came on deck
Saying, "Fellas, too rough to feed ya."
[Former version:] At seven PM a hatchway caved in
[Latter version:] At seven PM it grew dark, it was
He said, "Fellas, it's good to know ya."
The captain in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in
And later that night when his lights out of sight
Came the of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Does anyone know the love of God goes
When the waves the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles her
They might have split up or might have capsized
They may broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the
Of the wives and the sons and the

Lake Huron rolls, Superior
In the rooms of her mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young dreams
The and bays are for sportsmen
And farther below, Lake
Takes in what Lake Erie can her
And the iron go as the mariners all know
With the gales of remembered

[Former In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
[Latter version:] In a rustic old in Detroit they prayed
In the Sailors' Cathedral
The church bell chimed 'til it rang times
For each man on the Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the on down
Of the big lake call Gitche Gumee
Superior, said, never gives up her dead
When the of November come early