Here’s a soothingly ominous and mildly threatening song to ease you into your Saturday. I first heard it while barreling down some Minnesota backroad, returning from a ten day trip into the heart of the wilderness with two friends. We were starving like wolves, hirsute and hollow eyed, and this song along with plenty of Creedance and Dylan saw us to the closest mom & pop breakfast diner where we scarfed down about seven plates worth of the brunch buffet. We garnered strange looks, wary glances from the locals, but we didn’t care. For forty five glorious minutes, it was all about how much hash browns, sausages, scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee we could inhale. The proprietor was ashen faced by the time we were done.
That reminds me that this diner had these great paper table mats depicting the Great Lakes and all the ships that had been sunk in them over the years. The greatest was the Edmund Fitzgerald, a vast cargo transporter that went down mysteriously in a storm. It’s conjectured by hoary old fishermen while they mend their nets that the massive tanker was felled by the ‘Three Sisters’, a lethal barrage of three vast waves that have been the undoing of many a poor ship on the Lakes, whipped up out of nowhere by the kind of storms Thor would have been proud of. It was actually a remarkably grim and entertaining little table mat. I wish I’d stolen me a copy.
Anyways, enjoy Gordon Lightfoot below, and heed his warning. Sundown, you’d better take care: