The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald
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 true 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 ships bell rang
Could it be the north wind theyd 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,
Twas 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, its too rough to feed ya.
At seven p.m. a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, its been good tknow 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 theyd have made whitefish bay
If theyd put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
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 mans 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!
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Storms of November
Every Spring I look forward to the storms
of November that roll down from up north
Green trees and warm sun adumbrates
the cold and fog that envelop the Lakes
From Superior to South Chicago
beginning the first of November
As monster ore freighters like the fabled
Edmund Fitzgerald are broken and go down
With all hands aboard lost to the storm's fury
in a matter of hours on the raging lake
Now I think fondly of those ships at rest
that once carried the ore for industry
Like other survivors of disaster I am blessed
that I forget the hardship and grueling work
and the sacrifice of family life for a job!
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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Down Lo Ho (Interlude)
Featuring The Refugee All Stars
I wanna dedicate this song,
gone til november,
to all you ladies out there,
crying all alone in your room,
and all you fellas,
goin down south, and not making it back,
may the lord bless your soul.
Every time I make a run,
girl you turn around and cry,
I ask myself why oh why,
see you must understand,
I cant work a 9 to 5,
so ill be gone til november,
said ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
janurary, feburary, march, april, may,
I see you crying but girl i cant stay,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
and give a kiss to my mother,
girl I gotta leave please dont cry,
when I come back you know the limits the sky,
ill take you out to dinner to your favorite spot,
fejuion and fateesion just to get you high,
drive by movies by the cemetary,
if my corps could talk then i'd tell him I was sorry,
life stories of the rich and famous,
some guy with the name some guy name less,
every time I make a run,
girl you turn around and cry,
I ask myself why oh why,
see you must understand,
I cant work a 9 to 5,
so ill be gone til november,
said ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
janurary, feburary, march, april, may,
I see you crying but girl I cant stay,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
yo give a kiss to my mother,
we are none had to do some,
so im knocking on h
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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November Rain
November rain washed away my guilt
November rain washed away my pain
November rain - so tired I felt
November rain was not just any rain
Long I longed with deep torment
For so long my body waited
November rain, , , , Oh, sweet friend
November rain- slowly I faded.
November rain- I cried within
Steady and slowly, it kept on pouring
November rain, watered my skin
And deep inside, I heard my roaring.
November rain, it refused to quit
November rain kept on pouring
And alone outside, in the streets I wept-
dripping... dripping and falling.
poem by Amy Phillip
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Lake Scenes
DREAM
Ambling on beach in dark
when the lake laps the feet.
Sometimes I wish to walk away
on the water like a dragonfly.
MORNING
Trying to figure out
what happened?
Lake Huron went
into flames!
MOONLIGHT
Up, above
a white ship was sailing.
On water,
thousands of boats.
poem by Satish Verma
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A Soul Dies
Sky overcast, moon was sad.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Who killed the bird in morning rain?
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A hidden slaughterman did not die.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
The good old name now spells the doom.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
I will call you in pitch-dark night.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
Ascending gods have ruined my life.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
A child was stolen from a mother’s bed.
Ashes were sent to the lake.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Wreck of the Barque Wm. Paterson of Liverpool
Ye landsmen all attend my verse, and I'll tell to ye a tale
Concerning the barque "Wm. Paterson" that was lost in a tempestuous gale;
She was on a voyage from Bangkok to the Clyde with a cargo of Teakwood,
And the crew numbered Fifteen in all of seamen firm and good.
'Twas on the 11th of March, when a violent gale from the southward broke out,
And for nine days during tempestuous weather their ship was tossed about
By the angry sea, and the barque she sprang a leak,
Still the crew wrought at the pumps till their hearts were like to break.
And the pumps were kept constantly going for fourteen long hours,
And the poor men were drenched to the skin with sea spray showers;
Still they wrougnt at the pumps till they became rather clogged
Until at last the barque became thoroughly water-logged.
Oh! hard was the fate of these brave men,
While the water did rush in from stern to stem,
Poor souls,'twas enough to have driven them frantic,
To be drifting about water-logged in the Atlantic. At last she became unmanageable and her masts had to be cut away,
Which the brave crew performed quickly without delay;
Still gales of more or less violence prevailed every day,
Whilst the big waves kept dashing o'er them, likewise the spray.
And with the fearful hurricane the deckhouse and galley were carried away,
Yet the thought of a speedy deliverance kept up their courage day by day,
And the captain prepared for the breaking up of the ship without dismay,
And to save his rations he reduced each man to two biscuits a day.
The brave heroes managed to save a pinnace about fifteen feet long,
And into it thirteen of the crew quickly and cautiously did throng,
With two bags of biscuits and a cask of water out of the tank.
And for these precious mercies, God they did thank;
Who is the giver of all good things,
And to those that put their trust in him often succour brings
And such has been the case with these brave men at sea,
That sent Captain McMullan to save them and bring them to Dundee.
When once into the pinnace they improvised a sail into a tent,
Which to the crew some little shelter lent;
Still every day they were drifting towards the coast of Greenland,
Yet they hoped in God that speedy deliverance might be near at hand.
And as every day passed by they felt woe begone,
Because no sail could they see on the horizon;
And they constructed a sea anchor to keep the boat's head to sea,
And not withstanding their hardships they stood out bravely.
And on the 19th of March a ship hove in sight,
Which proved to be the "Slieve Roe" to their delight;
Then they hoisted a signal of distress when they espied the "Slieve Roe,"
But it was not seen on account of the wreck being in the water so low.
But as soon as Captain McMullan knew it was a signal of distress,
Then heroically and quickly his men he did address,
He cried! come my men keep the ship close to the wind,
And let's try if we can these unfortunate souls find.
And as the "Slieve Roe" to them drew near,
Poor souls they gave a hearty cheer;
Then they were immediately taken on board,
And they thanked Captain McMullan for saving them, likewise the Lord.
Then a crew from the "Slieve Roe" were sent away,
For the two remaining members of the crew without delay;
The Captain and a Sailor, together with a cat and a pet dog,
Which had been the companions of the sailors, and seemed as frisky as a frog.
And when they had all got safe on board,
With one accord they thanked the Lord;
And Captain McMullan kindly did them treat,
By giving them dry clothing and plenty of meat.
And for his kind treatment unto them he deserves great praise,
For his many manly and kindly ways,
By saving so many lives during the time he has been at sea,
And in particular for fetching the crew of the "Wm. Paterson" safe to Dundee.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kavasutra’s Relaxing Times
KAVASUTRA’S RELAXING TIMES
Kava is a relaxing drink,
served cold by Mr. Pink.
Yes, go to Kavasutra on Lake
sit back and relax and feel great.
Owner Dillon started Kavasutra some years ago,
also in West Palm Beach didn’t you know?
Now Funk Factory is going to play
on November 14, it will be great.
Come meet Yandi and even Draino,
they will serve you Kava all night till you go.
Now visit them on the net.
go to facebook, tweeter and your best bet.
their website which is www.kavasutra.com.
type a comment on their blog.
Then click your mouse around and go
to play some games and watch a video.
Or just stop down on Lake Ave.,
it will be the funniest time you ever had.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on November 13,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swimming, below zero...
We swam the lake in mid-November
For a silly, madcap, dare.
In the distance watched a figure.
With a look of, despair…
A man's grimacing eyes, watched
Fishing on the far bank
As it happens my stepfather, crotched-
Legged, looking point-blank.
Pole in hand; gazing above, the rod-tip.
30 minutes, swimming the lake
One-side, only, we wasn't equip?
We'd made a big mistake.
Sure enough his glances, like the water
Were deeper than, our despair.
Soon we'd have to walk back feeling nuder
Than if our underwear were made of mohair!
But with my best friend walking by my side
I still felt unsingly, warm inside...
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kavasutra’s Relaxing Times
Kava is a relaxing drink,
served cold by Mr. Pink.
Yes, go to Kavasutra on Lake
sit back and relax and feel great.
Owner Dillon started Kavasutra some years ago,
also in West Palm Beach didn’t you know?
Now Funk Factory is going to play
on November 14, it will be great.
Come meet Yandi and even Draino,
they will serve you Kava all night till you go.
Now visit them on the net.
go to facebook, tweeter and your best bet.
their website which is www.kavasutra.com.
type a comment on their blog.
Then click your mouse around and go
to play some games and watch a video.
Or just stop down on Lake Ave.,
it will be the funniest time you ever had.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on November 13,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Voodoo Lake
(johnny vanzant -- chris eddy -- bob britt)
Way down yonder you can hear the wind blow
Through the tall grass growing in the old bayou
The old bayou
Theres a dark haired woman that looks so fine
Wearing hand me down clothes, drinking homemade wine
No one ever knew who her daddy was
The people down here say its all because
Shes the daughter of the devil, the sister of a snake
The keeper of souls down on vodoo lake
Theres a city boy across the county line
Came looking for the legend of the girl so fine
Well the stories that he heard, well they had to be lies
But he found out different when he looked inher eyes
Well he tried to run away but she had control
Hes findin out now what everybody knows
He knew it was over when she started to shake
Now theres one more soul down on voodoo lake
Theres an eerie silence at the break of dawn
A chill in the air, something wrong
When a shadow crosses the ground
Those long lost souls never make a sound
Youd think by now theyd realize
Shell never break her bayou ties
Shes the daughter of the devil, the sister of a snake
The keeper of souls down on voodoo lake
Voodoo lake, voodoo lake
Daughter of the devil, sister of a snake
Voodoo lake
Down on voodoo lake, down on voodoo lake
You can see her down on voodoo lake
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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November
November;
One of those months
caught in the middle
between two seasons
Split down
into two's
Like daylight
and darkness
'Always feels like home
in twilight,
and just before the dawn
before the birds song'
A time that never lasted
too long
November is warm
thunderstorms at night...
frozen water at dawn.
Sullen lead gray mornings
swallowed by the cold
empty afternoon's sunshine.
November then slumbers with
it's blanket of darkness
in frozen silence
no solace...just solitude
poem by Midnights Voice
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Let Her Go Down
Sometime in October
we sailed from England's shore
When we sailed into a raging storm
like I never ever seen before
And all of the crew they were brave men
but the captain he was braver
and he said
"Never mind the ship me boys
There's none of us here can save her"
Let her go down Swim for your lives
Swim for your children swim for your wives
Let her go down Let her go down
Lost in the open ocean
there was some of the crew and me
while the captain steered our wounded ship
to the bottom of an angry sea
And with his dying breath
we all heard him say
"It's just the fortune of sailor"
and he said
"Never mind the ship me boys
There's none of us here can save her"
chorus
He wondered if his shipmates
were ready to just pray and give in
so he called their names out one by one
but there was no one else around but him
He saw the ship go down the fading light
and he knew that they could have saved her
He said
"The captain lied when the captain cried
'There's none of us here can save her' "
chorus
Swim for your lives
Swim for your children swim for your wives
Let her go down Let her go down
Swim for your lives
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The night I will always remember
Wednesday night at nine thirty
Terror sailed into my city.
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Gripped with fear, panic and despair…
Grenades and bullets in the air.
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Tourists slaughtered on their vacation
Everyday folk massacred on a railway station
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Babies slaughtered in their mother’s womb
Five star hotels have become a mass tomb
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Children orphaned, a rabbi dead
Terrorists feeling no regret
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
Brave hearts butchered, lives in disarray
One night that lasted three whole days
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
My city is battered
My faith in every politician, shattered
I will always, always remember,
The night of 26th November
poem by Sherrie Marker
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Like the lake a Chinese poet sits beside in a painting
Who cares about
the weight of a lake?
Who would care to weigh it?
Who cares about
the colour of a lake
without the light of the sky
to reflect in it?
Who notices its modesty,
reflecting all, but silent of itself?
Who observes that the lake
remains unaffected,
not pained by loss,
not pleased by gain?
Who notices its wisdom,
obeying every law?
Who names its generosity,
among the fish, the birds,
the animals who drink?
Who knows whether the tree
leaning over it, sees its own reflection?
Who notices its love?
It bonds with earth,
It flows when needed,
as love does.
Who asks where the lake came from,
seeing it there?
Who wonders how old that lake is?
It is without age today.
Who wonders whether the lake
knows itself water,
or if water knows itself lake?
Who does not go to seek it,
for its stillness, for its silence,
as if it understands the mind’s needs,
the heart’s nourishment?
He is like that.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Across The Lake Unto The Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
Do you hear the clouds applaud?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Across the Lake Unto the Sky
Across the lake
Unto the sky
There bloomed a rainbow
To feast my eye
That late afternoon
After a brief spell of rain
When my heart was still
Entangled with the lake's heart
There the sun rushed in
Leaving the lake half-thirsty
The archer hiding deep under the lake
Aimed and shot an arrow
At the unruly sun and left
His bow across the sky
As if telling the sun 'beware! '
Lo, vanished the sun in fright
The lake had its fill!
Do you hear the clouds applaud?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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November Nights
September nights
Tend to scream
'Baby I thought you
Said you loved me'
October nights
Remind me
Of 'we' the 'us':
So in love.
November nights
November nights
What A fright
November nights
Ending of my present life
Nothing ever seemed so right
I need you by my side
I died, I died on November nights
September nights
what a wonderful thing
My beginning
How Ironic.
My birth day
Our beginning
Oh what a wonderful month
September means love
October nights
Oh so beautiful
Happiness, hope
A whole family
My daddies' birthdays
One here, one deceased
Praised and mourned
Mixed Octobers
November nights
Panic. Thanksgiving.
Thanks for what?
November killed my father
November nights
A car crash
14 years ago
And then you end me
November nights
November nights
What A fright
November nights
Literal ending of his life
Nothing ever seems all right
Momma needed him by her side
He died, He died on a November night
poem by Gabriella Franco
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Wreck of the Schooner Samuel Crawford
'Twas in the year of 1886, and on the 29th of November,
Which the surviving crew of the "Samuel Crawford" will long remember,
She was bound to Baltimore with a cargo of pine lumber;
But, alas! the crew suffered greatly from cold and hunger.
'Twas on December 3rd when about ten miles south-west
Of Currituck light, and scudding at her best;
That a heavy gale struck her a merciless blow,
Which filled the hearts of the crew with fear and woe.
Then the merciless snow came down, hiding everything from view,
And as the night closed in the wind tempestuous blew;
Still the brave crew reefed the spanker and all the sails,
While not one amongst them with fear bewails.
Still the gallant little schooner ploughed on the seas,
Through the blinding snow and the stormy breeze;
Until it increased to a fearful hurricane,
Yet the crew wrought manfully and didn't complain.
But during the night the wind it harder blew,
And the brave little schooner was hove to;
And on the morning of December the 4th the wind died out,
But it rent the schooner from stem to stern without any doubt.
And the seas were running mountains high,
While the poor sailors, no doubt, heaved many a sigh;
Because they must have felt cold, and the schooner sprung a leak,
Still they wrought while their hearts were like to break.
Then the wind it sprang up in terrific fury again,
But the crew baled out the water with might and main;
But still the water fast on them did gain,
Yet the brave heroes disdained to complain.
On the morning of December the 4th she was scudding before a hurricane,
And the crew were exhausted, but managed the poop to gain;
And the vessel was tossed like a cork on the wave,
While the brave crew expected to meet with a watery grave.
And huge beams and pine planks were washed overboard,
While Captain Tilton looked on and said never a word;
And the crew likewise felt quite content,
Until the fore-and-aft rigging overboard went.
Then loudly for help to God they did cry,
And to their earnest prayer He did draw nigh;
And saved them from a watery grave,
When help from Him they did crave.
Poor souls they expected to be engulfed every hour,
And to appease their hunger they made dough with salt water and flour;
And made a sort of hard cake placed over a griddle hole,
To satisfy their hunger, which, alas! is hard to thole.
And two of these cakes each man got per day,
Which the poor creatures devoured in a ravenous way;
Along with a little fresh water to wash it down,
Which they most thankfully praised God for and didn't frown.
And on the 10th of December when they had burned their last light,
The ship "Orinoco" bound for New York hove in sight;
And they were rescued safely and taken on board,
And they thanked the Captain, and likewise the Lord.
Then the Captain of the "Orinoco" ordered her to be set on fire,
Which was quickly done as he did desire;
Which caused the rescued crew to stare in amaze,
And to take the last look of their schooner in a blaze.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Deep Forbidden Lake
On the lake, the deep forbidden lake,
The old boats go gliding by,
And the leaves are falling from the trees
And landing on the logs and i
See the turtles heading for the bog
And falling off the log.
They make the water splash,
And feeling no backlash,
They climb the happy banks.
On the boats, the old and creaky boats,
The shoreline goes gliding by,
And the wind, there was a dying breeze,
Is making the banners fly.
See the colors, floating in the sky,
The pride of the captains eye,
As he glides
His slender craft inside
And opens up the door.
On the coast, the long and tempting coast,
The cards on the table lie,
And a speech, so eloquent in reach,
Was made by a passerby,
Passing by the way between
Here and left behind.
And it ripples through the crowds
Who run and cast their doubts
In the deep forbidden lake.
Yes, it echoes through the crowds
Who run and cast their doubts
In the deep forbidden lake.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lake Worth Herald
The Lake Worth Herald records events in Lake Worth town
Mark Easton works hard making sure Lake Worth Herald paper gets out.
It's Wednesday afternoon and the printing press is running
all of Mark's stories are real life, serious and also funny.
The Lake Worth Library had an article on me
with UniCandle unicorn and doll Melodie.
It was November 2006 and I was on
Lake Worth Herald's cover page
sitting on birthday chair where
children celebrate their age.
Lake Worth Herald is printing
my new poetry book
-the one you are reading-
soon also on the Nook.
Mark was gracious and helped get my book right
he is friendly and easy to work with editing my book
to make it out of sight!
For it has a glow in the dark cover
it is different not like any other.
Thanks Mark for your kindness in working with me
it was a pleasure working with you and also a
'Thank You' from my doll on the front cover Melodie!
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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