Of the big lake they call 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 26,000 tons more

Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty

That good 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

Comin' back from some mill in Wisconsin

As the big freighter 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 later that night when the ship's bell rang

Could it be the north wind they'd bin 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 gale 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', "fellows it's too rough to feed you"

At seven p.m. a main hatchway gave in

He said, "fellows it's been good to know ya"

The captain wired in he had water comin' in

And the good ship and crew were in peril

And later that night when 'is lights went out of sight

Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Does anyone know where the love of God goes

When the waves turn minutes to hours?

The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay

If they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er

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 sportsman

And further below Lake Ontario

Takes in what Lake Erie can send her

And the iron boats go as the mariners well 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 til it rang 29 times

For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald

And 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