Luyện nghe bài hát The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on
Of the big lake they 'Gitche Gumee'
The lake, it is said, never gives up her
When the of November turn gloomy

With a load of iron ore, twenty-six tons more
the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and was a bone to be chewed
When the of November came early

The ship was the of the American side
Coming back from mill in Wisconsin
As the big go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good well-seasoned

Concluding some terms a couple steel firms
they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship's bell
Could it be the north wind been feelin'?

The in the wires made the tattle-tale sound
And the wave over the railing
And man knew, as the captain did too
the witch of November come stealin'

The came late and the breakfast had to wait
the gales of November came slashin'
When afternoon came, it was freezin'
In the face of a hurricane wind

When supper time came, the old cook came on deck
Fellas, it's too rough to ya
At 7 P.M. a main caved in, he said
Fellas, been good to know ya

The captain wired in he had water in
And the good ship and was in peril
And that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Fitzgerald

Does any one know where the of God goes
the waves turn the minutes to hours?
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
They may have broke and took water
And all that remains is the and the names
Of the wives and the and the daughters

Lake Huron rolls, sings
In the rooms of her mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young dreams
The and bays are for sportsmen

And below Lake Ontario
Takes in Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go, as the mariners all
With the of November remembered

In a musty old hall in they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors'
The bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Fitzgerald

The legend lives on from the on down
Of the big lake they 'Gitche Gumee'
Superior, they said, gives up her dead
When the gales of November come