Luyện nghe bài hát The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

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

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

The in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
When the wave broke over the
And every man knew, as the did too
'Twas the witch of come stealin'
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to
the gales of November came slashin'
When came it was freezing rain
In the face of a west wind

When suppertime came, the old cook on deck
Saying, "Fellas, it's too to feed ya."
version:] At seven PM a main hatchway caved in
[Latter version:] At seven PM it grew dark, it was
He said, "Fellas, it's been good to ya."
The captain wired in he had comin' in
And the good ship and was in peril
And later that when his lights went out of sight
the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Does anyone where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to
The all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put more miles behind her
They might have split up or might have capsized
may have broke deep and took water
And all that is the faces and the names
Of the and the sons and the daughters

Lake Huron rolls, Superior
In the rooms of her ice-water
Old Michigan steams like a young dreams
The and bays are for sportsmen
And farther below, Lake
Takes in what Lake can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all
With the of November remembered

[Former version:] In a musty old hall in Detroit prayed
[Latter In a rustic old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Sailors' Cathedral
The church bell chimed 'til it twenty-nine times
For each man on the Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on
Of the big lake they call Gumee
Superior, they said, gives up her dead
the gales of November come early