Luyện nghe bài hát The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

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

The ship was the pride of the American
back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than
With a crew and good well seasoned
some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully for Cleveland
Then later that night when the ship's rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been

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

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

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

Lake Huron rolls, Superior
In the rooms of her mansion
Old Michigan steams like a man's 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 all know
With the gales of remembered

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