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The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald Accordi
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The legend lives on from the Chippewa on downOf the big lake they call Gitche GumeeThe lake, it is said, never gives up her deadWhen the skies of November turn gloomyWith a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons moreThan the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed emptyThat good ship and true was a bone to be chewedWhen the gales of November came earlyThe ship was the pride of the American sideComing back from some mill in WisconsinAs the big freighters go, it was bigger than mostWith a crew and good captain well seasonedConcluding some terms with a couple of steel firmsWhen they left fully loaded for ClevelandAnd later that night when the ship's bell rangCould it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale soundAnd a wave broke over the railingAnd every man knew, as the captain did tooT'was the witch of November come stealin'The dawn came late and the breakfast had to waitWhen the gales of November came slashin'When afternoon came it was freezin' rainIn the face of a hurricane west windWhen suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'"Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya"At 7 PM, a main hatchway caved in, he said"Fellas, it's been good to know ya"The captain wired in he had water comin' inAnd the good ship and crew was in perilAnd later that night when his lights went outta sightCame the wreck of the Edmund FitzgeraldDoes any one know where the love of God goesWhen the waves turn the minutes to hours?The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish BayIf they'd put fifteen more miles behind herThey might have split up or they might have capsizedThey may have broke deep and took waterAnd all that remains is the faces and the namesOf the wives and the sons and the daughtersLake Huron rolls, Superior singsIn the rooms of her ice-water mansionOld Michigan steams like a young man's dreamsThe islands and bays are for sportsmenAnd farther below Lake OntarioTakes in what Lake Erie can send herAnd the iron boats go as the mariners all knowWith the gales of November rememberedIn a musty old hall in Detroit they prayedIn the maritime sailors' cathedralThe church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine timesFor each man on the Edmund FitzgeraldThe legend lives on from the Chippewa on downOf the big lake they call Gitche GumeeSuperior, they said, never gives up her deadWhen the gales of November come earlyLyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind | Di: Gordon Lightfoot | Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics
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Silenzio
Intro
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
Verso
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand 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
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters 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 been feelin'?
Coro
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
Strumentale
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too
Verso
T'was the witch of November come stealin'
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin'
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind
Coro
Strumentale
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'
"Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya"
At 7 PM, a main hatchway caved in, he said
Verso
"Fellas, it's been good to know ya"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Coro
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
Strumentale
Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
Verso
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 is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters
Coro
Strumentale
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 sportsmen
Verso
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered
Coro
Strumentale
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the maritime sailors' cathedral
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
Verso
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
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
Coro
When the gales of November come early
Fine
Silenzio
Di: Gordon Lightfoot · Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind · Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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