The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald Gordon Lightfoot
(strum up on th[(1)]e first three chords)
The[E] legend lives on from the [G]Chippewa on down
to [D]the big lake they call [E]Gitche Gumee
The [E]lake, it is said, never [G]gives up her dead
When [D]the skies of November turn [E]gloomy
With [E]a load of iron ore -2[G]6,ooo tons more
than [D]the Edmund Fitzgerald w[E]eighed empty
That[E] good ship and true was a [G]bone to be chewed
When[D] the gales of November [E]came early
The [E]ship was the pride of the [G]American side
comin[D]g back from some mill in [E]Wisconson
As [E]the big freighters go it was [G]bigger than most.
With[D] a crew and the captain [E]well seasoned.
Conc[E]luding some terms with a c[G]ouple of steel firms
When [D]they left fully loaded for C[E]leveland,
and[E] later that night when the s[G]hips bell rang,
could[D] it be the North wind they'd been [E]feeling.
The [E]wind in the wires made a [G]tattletale sound
and [D]a wave broke over the [E]railing.
Every[E] man knew, as the [G]captain did, too,
T'was[D] the witch of November came [E]stealing.
The [E]dawn came late and the [G]breakfast had to wait
when[D] the gales of November came [E]slashing.
When[E] afternoon came it was [G]freezing rain
in [D]the face if a hurricane [E]west wind.
When [E]supper time came the old [G]cook came on deck,
Saying[D] fellas it's to rough to [E]feed ya.
At[E] 7PM a main hatchway [G]caved in.
He [D]said fellas it's been good to [E]know ya.
The[E] captain wired in, [G]he had water coming in,
and [D]the good ship and crew were in [E]peril.
Later[E] that night when his [G]lights went out of sight
came[D] the wreck of the Edmund [E]Fitzgerald.
Does [E]anyone know where the [G]love of God goes,
When[D] the words turn minutes to [E]hours.
The [E]searchers all say they'd have [G]made Whitefish Bay
If [D]they'd fifteen more miles b[E]ehind her.
They [E]might have split up and [G]they might have capsized.
They [D]may have broke deep and [E]took water.
All [E]that remains is the [G]faces and the names
of [D]the wives and the sons and the [E]daughters.
Lake[E] Huron rolls, [G]Superior sings
in [D]the ruins of her ice water [E]mansion.
Old[E] michigan steams like a [G]young man's dreams,
the [D]islands and bays are for [E]sportsmen.
And [E]farther below [G]Lake Ontario
takes[D] in what Lake Erie can s[E]end her
and [E]the iron boats go as the [G]mariners all know
with[D] the gales of November [E]remembered.
In [E]a musty old hall in [G]Detroit they prayed
in[D] the Maritime Sailors [E]Cathedral
The[E] church bell chimed, '[G]til it rang 29 times
for [D]each man on the Edmund [E]Fitzgerald.
The [E]legend lives on from the [G]Chippewa on down
to [D]the big lake they call Gitche [E]Gumee.
Superio[E]r, they said, never g[G]ives up her dead
when [D]the gales of november come [E]early.
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