Songs of the Sea

Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Pierce Campbell
written by Gordon Lightfoot/Moose Music 1976


This is a classic that I have gotten requests for for years.


The legend live on from the Chippawa home town, on the lake they call Gitcheegoomee The Lake it is said never gives up her dead, when the skys of November turn gloomy 2With a load of iron ore 26 thousand tons more than the Edmond Fitzgerald weighed empty That good ship and crew was bound to be chewed, when the gails of November came early The ship was the pride of the American side, commin' back from some mill in Wisconsin As big freighters go it was bigger than most, with a crew and a captain well seasoned Concluding some tems with a couple of steel firms, when they left fully loaded from Cleveland Then late that night when the ship bel rang, could it be the north wind they was feelin' The winds and the wire made a tattle tale sound, when the waves broke over the railing And every man knew as the captain did too, twas the witch of November come early The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait, as the gails of November came slashin' When afternoon came it was freezing rain, and 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 the main hatchway gave in, he said fellas it's been good to know ya The captain wired in they had water comin in, and the good ship and crew was in peril Later that night when it's light went out of sight, came th wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald Does anyone know where the love of God goes, when the waves turn the minutes to hours The searchers all say they'd have made Whitehead 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 are the faces and names, of the wives and the sons and the daughters Make your own row Lake Superior says, in the rooms of her ice water mansion Old Michigans steams lack a young mans dreams, the Islands and bays are for sportsman Farther below Lake Ontario,, takes in what Lake Erie can send her And the iron boats go as the mariners all know, with the gails of November remembered In a musty old hall in Detroit they all prayed in the maritime sailor's Cathedral The church bell chimed and rang 29 times, for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald And the ledgend lives on form that Chippawa home town, on the big lake they call Gitchhgoommee Lake Superior they said never gives up her dead, when the gales of November come early