From the recording Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

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