Luyện nghe bài hát The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

The lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche
The lake, it is said, gives up her dead
When the skies of November gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand more
the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
[Former version:] That good and true was a bone to be chewed
[Latter version:] That good and crew was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of came early

The ship was the of the American side
Coming back from some in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than
With a crew and good well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a of steel firms
When they fully loaded for Cleveland
Then later night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind been feelin'?

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

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

Does anyone know where the love of God
When the waves turn the to hours?
The all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put more miles behind her
might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took
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 like a young man's dreams
The islands and are for sportsmen
And farther below, Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can her
And the iron boats go as the all know
the gales of November remembered

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