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Gordon Lightfoot- Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

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Uploaded on May 2, 2008

Hamilton Place, May 08- Dedicated to my father, brother, father-in-law and uncles who sailed the Great Lakes(and my mom, a Wiarton girl)

The legend lives on from the (Em) Chippewa on down
Of the (G) big lake they (D) call Gitche (Asus2) Gumee
The lake, it is said, never (Em) gives up her dead
When the (G) skies of No(D)vember turn (Asus2) gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six (Em) thousand tons more
Than the (G) Edmund Fitz(D)gerald weighed (Asus2) empty
That good ship and true was a (Em) bone to be chewed
When the (G) gales of No(D)vember came (Asus2) 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 feeling

(A) (A11) (Dsus4) (D) (Asus2)

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 stealing
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the Gales of November came slashing
When afternoon came it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind

(A) (A11) (Dsus4) (D) (Asus2) (A11) (D) (Asus2)

When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck saying
Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya
At seven PM a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it's been good to know ya
The captain wired in he had water coming in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of 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 searchers 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 til 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

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