Chords used: B F#m A E
Intro:
B F#m A E B A E B
B F#m
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
A E B
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
F#m
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
A E B
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
F#m
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
A E B
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
F#m
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
A E B
when the "Gales of November" came early.
B F#m
The ship was the pride of the American side
A E B
coming back from some mill in Wisconsin.
F#m
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
A E B
with a crew and good captain well seasoned,
F#m
concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
A E B
when they left fully loaded for Cleveland.
F#m
And later that night when the ship's bell rang,
A E B
could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?
F#m
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
A E B
and a wave broke over the railing.
F#m
And ev'ry man knew, as the captain did too
A E B
'twas the witch of November come stealin'.
F#m
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
A E B
when the Gales of November came slashin'.
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When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
A E B
in the face of a hurricane west wind.
F#m
When suppertime came the old cook came on deck sayin'.
A E B
"Fellas, it's too rough t'feed ya."
F#m
At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in; he said,
A E B
"Fellas, it's bin good t'know ya!"
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The captain wired in he had water comin' in
A E B
and the good ship and crew was in peril.
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And later that night when 'is lights went outta sight
A E B
came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
F#m
Does any one know where the love of God goes
A E B
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
F#m
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
A E B
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
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They might have split up or they might have capsized;
A E B
they may have broke deep and took water.
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And all that remains is the faces and the names
A E B
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
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Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
A E B
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
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Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
A E B
the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
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And farther below Lake Ontario
A E B
takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
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And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
A E B
with the Gales of November remembered.
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In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
A E B
in the "Maritime Sailors' Cathedral."
F#m
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
A E B
for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
B F#m
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
A E B
of the big lake they call "Gitche Gumee."
F#m
"Superior," they said, "never gives up her dead
A E B
when the gales of November come early!"