Karaoké The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald Gordon Lightfoot

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 big 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 then later that night when the ship's bell rang

Could it be the north wind they'd 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 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 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 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 '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