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August 10, 2007

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead

What may be a life preserver from the Edmund Fitzgerald has washed ashore 200 miles from the cite of the famous wreck. James Lileks elaborates in verse (via Instapundit).

A farmer in socks was out huntin’ for rocks
In the land they call the Keweenaw
He spied a big log in the depths of the fog
And could not believe what he then saw

A round thing quite old and all grotty with mold
With a name a songwriter had heralded
A ship that held ore and had passed into lore
‘Twas the ring of the Edmund Fitzgerald!

Posted by Ghost of a flea at August 10, 2007 06:27 AM

Comments

I'm probably the only person in Canada who hates that song. Well, that one and every other folk song ever recorded by anyone.

Posted by: Chris Taylor [TypeKey Profile Page] at August 10, 2007 02:43 PM

"...every other folk song ever recorded by anyone."

Heathen.

Posted by: Damian [TypeKey Profile Page] at August 10, 2007 04:29 PM

Would this include folk-metal?

Posted by: Ghost of a flea [TypeKey Profile Page] at August 10, 2007 06:23 PM

Pleading ignorance on that count as I have never (to my knowledge) heard a folk-metal band or even song.

Posted by: Chris Taylor [TypeKey Profile Page] at August 14, 2007 04:34 PM