When the Gales of November Come Early: Sights of East Lansing

Submitted by BlueBarron on October 30th, 2016 at 7:14 PM

Previously on the Sights of series:
2016 NCAA Hockey Tournament
2016 Football at Rutgers
For your read-along listening pleasure, Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordan Lightfoot. Beware when the gales of November come early.

(As always, right click -> view image to make it bigger. All photos are by myself, Patrick Barron, and Bryan Fuller)

 


The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called 'gitche gumee'


The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy


With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty


That good ship and crew was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early



The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin


As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned


Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland


And later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?



♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪


The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing


And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T'was the witch of November come stealin'


The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin'


When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind

 
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
 
 
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'
Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya
 
 
 
At seven pm a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it's been good t'know ya
 
 
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
 
 
 
 
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
 
 
 
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
 
 
Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
 
 
 
The searches all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her
 
 
 
They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
 
 
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters
 
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
 
 
 
Lake Huron rolls, superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion
 
 
 
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams
The islands and bays are for sportsmen
 

 
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
 
 
 
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered
 
 
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
 
 
 
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the maritime sailors' cathedral
 
 
 
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
 
 
 
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 'gitche gumee'
 
 
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early
 
 
Full album - Patrick Barron
Full album - Bryan Fuller
 
 
-Patrick Barron

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