The Wreck

The legend lives on, from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called Gitchee Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November are gloomy

A load of iron ore, 26,000 tons more
The Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and crew 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
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When she left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night, when the lights went out of sight
Could it be the north wind they'd been feeling?

At seven P.M., the old cook came on deck
Saying, "Fellas, it's too rough to feed you"
When the captain wired in, he had water coming in
He said, "Fellas, it's been good to know you"

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice water mansions
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dream
The islands and bays are for sportsmen

And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
But the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered