"The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" - Gordon Lightfoot (HD w/ Lyrics) Chords

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [B] _ _ _ [F#m] _
[E] _ _ _ [B] _ _ _ _ [E] _
_ [B] _ _ _ _ The legend lives [F#m] on from the Chippewa on down,
The [E] big lake [B] they call Gitche Gumee.
_ The [F#m] lake it is said never gives up her dead,
When the [E] skies of [B] November turn gloomy. _
With a load of iron [F#m] ore 26,000 tons more,
Than the [E] Edmund [B] Fitzgerald weighed empty.
_ That good shipping crew [F#m] was a bone to be [A] chewed,
When the [E] gales of [B] November came early.
_ The ship [F#m] was the pride of the American side,
[A] Coming [E] back from [B] Somerville in Wisconsin.
As the [F#m] big freighters go it was bigger than [A] most,
With a [E] grown good [B] captain well seasoned.
Concluding some [F#m] terms with a couple of steel [A] firms,
When they [E] left fully [B] loaded for Cleveland.
Then [F#m] later that night when the ship's bell rang,
[A] Could it be [E] the north [B] wind they'd been feeling?
_ _ [F#m] _
_ [E] _ _ [B] _ _ _ _
The wind and the [F#m] wires made a tattle-tale [A] sound,
When [E] the wave [B] drove over the railing. _
_ And every [F#m] man knew as the captain [A] did too,
T'was [E] the witch of [B] November come stealing.
_ _ The dawn [F#m] came late and the breakfast had to wait,
When the [E] gales of [B] November came slashing.
When afternoon [F#m] came it was freezing rain,
[A] In [E] the face of a [B] hurricane west wind.
_ _ [F#m] _ _ [E] _
_ [B] _ _ [A] _ _ [E] _ _ [B] _
_ _ _ When supper [F#m] time came the old cook [A] came on deck,
[E] Saying fellas [B] it's too rough to feed you.
_ _ At 7 [F#m] p.m. a main hatchway came in,
He [E] said fellas [B] it's been good to know you. _ _
The captain [F#m] wired in he had water coming in,
And the [E] good ship and [B] crew was in peril.
Later that [F#m] night when his lights went out of sight,
Came [E] the wreck of the [B] Edmund Fitzgerald. _
_ [A] _ _ [E] _ _ [B] _ _ [A] _
_ [E] _ _ [B] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ [B] Does anyone [F#m] know where the love of God [A] goes,
When [E] the waves turn [B] the minutes to hours?
_ _ The searchers [F#m] all say they'd have made Whitefish [A] Bay,
If [E] they'd put 15 [B] more miles behind her.
_ They might have split [F#m] up or they might have [A] capsized,
They [E] may have broke [B] deep and took water.
All that [F#m] remains is the faces and the [A] names,
Of the [E] wives and the [B] sons and the daughters. _
_ [F#m] _ _ [E] _ _ [B] _ _ [F#m] _
_ [Em] _ _ [B] _ _ _ _
Lake Huron [F#m] rolls, Superior [A] sings,
In [E] the rooms of her [B] ice water mansion.
Old Michigan [F#m] steams like a young man's dreams,
The [E] islands and [B] bays are for sportsmen. _
And farther below [F#m] Lake Ontario,
[A] Takes [E] in what Lake [B] Erie can send her.
The iron boats [F#m] go as the mariners all [A] go,
With the [E] gales of [B] November remembered.
_ _ _ _ [E] _ _ [B] _
_ [A] _ _ [Em] _ _ [B] _ _ _
_ _ _ [F#m] _ _ [E] _ _ [B] _
_ [A] _ _ [E] _ _ [B] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ In a musty old hall [F#m] in Detroit,
They prayed [A] in the [E] Maritime [B] Sailors' Cathedral. _
The church [F#m] bell chimed and it rang [A] 29 times,
For each man [B] on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
_ The legend [F#m] lives on from the Chippewa,
[A] Down of the big lake [B] they call Gitche Gumee.
_ _ Superior, they [F#m] said, never gives up her dead,
When [E] the gales of [B] November come early.
_ _ [F#m] _ _ [E] _
_ [B] _ _ _ [A] _ [Em] _ _ _
[B] _ .
_ _ _ [F#m] _ [E] _ _ _ [B] _ _ [A] _ _ [E] _ _