No Room

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  “Very sorry, sir,” again repeated the landlord: “but we really haven’t got a bed vacant in the whole house. In fact, we are putting two, and even three gentlemen in one bed, as it is.”  This staggered us for a bit. But Harris, who is an old traveller, rose to the occasion, and, laughing cheerily, said: “Oh, well, we can’t help it. We must rough it. You must give us a shake-down in the billiard-room.”  “Very sorry, sir. Three gentlemen sleeping on the billiard-table already, and two in the coffee-room. Can’t possibly take you in to-night.” Jerome K. Jerome, “Three Men In A Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)” Ch. 12 (1889) Artwork by Grok

The Wreck of The Edmund Fitzgerald

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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

(Lyrics by Gordon Lightfoot)

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