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The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald
Gordon Lightfoot
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
Of the big lake they called 'Gitche Gumee'
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twentyThan 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
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
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 tattleAnd 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
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin'.
In the face of a hurricane west wind.
Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya.
At Seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it's been good t'know ya
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The searches all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
May have broke deep and took water.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her.
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 iceOld Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And farther below Lake Ontario
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the Gales of November remembered.
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twentyIn a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Of the big lake they call 'Gitche Gumee'.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early
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תודה, המערכת תבדוק את הקליפ ותוסיף אותו למאגר
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© זכויות היוצרים שמורות למחברים
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