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Winds of November

Today is so surreal. 39 years ago on this day, on a day similar to this, the winds of November also came early. Gordon Lightfoot commemorates the lives of those lost when Lake Superior claimed the Edmond Fitzgerald.








"The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald"


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


Then 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


When the wave broke over the railing


And every man knew, as the captain did too


'Twas 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 freezing 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 out of sight


Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald





Does anyone 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