Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, Gordon Lightfoot (Chords and Lyrics)

	Asus(E)(B)		Em(B)(G)		G(D)(B)		D(A)(B)		Asus(E)(B)
The	legend lives on	from the	Chippewa on down	Of the	big lake they		called	Gitche	Gumee
The	lake, it is said,	never	gives up her dead	When the	skies of	No	vember	turn	gloomy
With a	load of iron ore	twenty-six	thousand tons more	Than the	Edmund	Fitz	gerald	weighed	empty
That	good ship and true	was a	bone to be chewed	When the	gales of	No	vember	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'?
	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 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
	When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin' "Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya"
	At seven PM, a main hatchway caved in, he said "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 Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
	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 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
	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
	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
	In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed In the maritime sailors' cathedral
	The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
	The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee
	Superior, they said, never gives up her dead When the gales of November come early