About the song
“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” is a powerful ballad by Canadian singer-songwriter Gordon Lightfoot, immortalizing the tragic sinking of the bulk carrier SS Edmund Fitzgerald in Lake Superior on November 10, 1975. Released in 1976, the song became a major hit, particularly in Lightfoot’s native Canada and the United States, where it resonated deeply with people touched by the disaster.
Lightfoot, a passionate sailor himself, drew inspiration from news reports, particularly a Newsweek article titled “The Cruelest Month,” to pen a poignant chronicle of the Edmund Fitzgerald’s final voyage. The song follows the doomed ship as it encounters a vicious late-season storm on the Great Lakes, ultimately succumbing to the fury of the elements and sinking with all 29 crew members on board.
Lightfoot’s lyrics are a masterful blend of factual details and artistic license. Written before the wreckage could be fully examined, the song contains some creative interpretations and omissions. However, Lightfoot’s own experiences sailing the Great Lakes lend a profound authenticity to his storytelling. Notably, in later years, upon learning of new evidence suggesting no crew error was involved in the sinking, Lightfoot subtly modified a specific line during live performances, reflecting his commitment to accuracy while preserving the emotional core of the song.
Beyond chronicling the events, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” evokes a profound sense of loss and the enduring mystery surrounding the ship’s demise. The haunting melody, accentuated by the “haunting guitar and steel riffs,” creates a melancholic atmosphere that reflects the tragedy. The song concludes with a poignant question about the fate of the crew and a powerful image of the vastness and indifference of nature in the face of human loss.
“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” transcends the realm of a mere pop song. It stands as a lasting memorial to the crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald, a testament to the power of music to capture historical events, and a reminder of the treacherous beauty of the Great Lakes.
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Lyrics
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
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’?
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 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’ 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 call Gitche Gumee
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early