About the song
Gordon Lightfoot, a luminary in the world of folk and country music, delivered one of his most poignant and enduring songs with “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” Released in 1976, this powerful ballad stands as a testament to Lightfoot’s masterful storytelling and deep respect for maritime history.
“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” recounts the tragic sinking of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, a large freighter that went down in Lake Superior during a fierce storm on November 10, 1975. Lightfoot’s song captures the essence of this maritime disaster with remarkable detail and emotional depth, honoring the 29 crew members who lost their lives. The lyrics paint a vivid picture of the storm’s ferocity and the ship’s fateful journey, all set to a haunting melody that underscores the gravity of the event.
Upon its release, the song achieved considerable success, reaching number 2 on the Billboard Adult Contemporary chart and number 5 on the Billboard Hot 100. Its critical acclaim helped solidify Gordon Lightfoot’s reputation as a significant figure in folk music. The song’s haunting melody and evocative lyrics resonated deeply with listeners, earning it a place in the canon of classic American folk music.
Throughout his career, Lightfoot received numerous accolades for his contributions to music, including several Juno Awards and induction into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame. “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” remains one of his most celebrated works, illustrating his talent for crafting songs that blend historical events with personal reflection.
For those who appreciate deeply moving music that captures real-life stories, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” is a timeless piece. Gordon Lightfoot’s ability to convey the drama and tragedy of the shipwreck through his poignant lyrics and evocative melody makes this song a lasting tribute to the men who perished in that fateful storm. It’s a powerful reminder of the artistry that can bring history to life through song.
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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
