Chords for Mike Massé - Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (Gordon Lightfoot cover)

A freighter carrying a crew of 29 disappeared on Lake Superior during a severe storm last night and so far no survivors have been found.
The freighter, the Edmund Fitzgerald, was transporting iron ore when it ran into high winds and 25 miles _ _
[F#m] _ _ [E] _ _ [F#] _ _ [A] _ _
[E] _ _ [F#] _ _ _ per hour.
Legend lives [F#m] on from the Chippewa on [A] down, the big lake they [F#] call Gitchegoon. _ _
Lake is [F#m] sad, never gives up her dead, when the skies of [F#] November turn gloomy.
_ With a load of iron [F#m] ore, 26,000 tons more than the Edmund [F#] Fitzgerald weighed empty.
_ [B] That good shipping [F#m] crew was a bone to be [A] chewed when the gales of [F#] November came a-leaving.
The ship was the [F#m] pride of the American [A] side, coming back from [F#] Sunville in Wisconsin.
As the big freighters [F#m] go, it was bigger than [A] most, with a crew and good [B] captain well seasoned.
Concluding some [F#m] terms with a couple of steel [A] firms when they left fully [F#] loaded for Cleveland.
And later that [F#m] night when the ship's bell [A] rang, could it be the [F#] north wind they'd been feeling? _ _
[F#m] _ _ [E] _ _ [F#] _ _ _ _
_ _ The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound when the wave broke over the railing.
_ _ And every man [F#m] knew, as the captain did [A] too, it was the witch of [F#] November come stealing.
_ The dawn came [F#m] late and the breakfast had to [A] wait when the gales of November [B] came slashing.
When afternoon [F#m] came it was freezing rain, [A] in the face of a [F#] hurricane west wind.
[B] _ _
_ _ [F#m] _ _ [E] _ _ [B] _ _
[A] _ _ [E] _ _ [B] _ _ _
[F#] When suppertime [F#m] came the old cook came on deck, saying fellas it's too [F#] rough to feed ya.
_ At 7pm [F#m] the main hatchway caved in, he said fellas it's been [F#] good to know [B] ya.
_ [F#] The captain wired [F#m] in, he had water coming in, [A] and the good ship and crew [F#] was in peril.
And later that night [F#m] when the lights went out of sight, [A] came the wreck of the Edmund [F#] Fitzgerald.
_ _ [F#m] _ _
[E] _ _ [B] _ _ [A] _ _ [E] _ _
[B] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Does anyone know [F#m] where the love of God goes [E] when the waves turn the minutes [F#] to hours?
The _ searchers all say [F#m] they didn't made Whitefish Bay, but they put 15 more [F#] miles behind her.
_ [B] They might have split up [F#m] or they might have [A] capsized, they may have broke [B] deep and took water.
And all that remains [F#m] is the faces and the names [B] of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
_ _ [F#m] _ _
[E] _ _ [B] _ _ [A] _ _ [E] _ _
[F#] _ _ _ [B] Lake Huron [F#m] rolls, Superior sings, [A] in the rooms of her ice [F#] water mansion.
Old Michigan steams [F#m] like a young man's dreams, [A] islands and [F#] bays are for sportsmen.
_ And farther below [F#m] Lake Ontario, [A] takes in what Lake [F#] Erie can send her.
The iron boats go [F#m] as the mariners all [A] know, with the gales of [F#] November and limber. _ _
[F#m] _ [E] We can't answer if you could, [B] by any sign of any [A] life in the water, or any [B] debris, or any life rafts, or anything that might indicate a survivor. _
[F#m] _ _ [E] _ _ [B] _ _ [A] _ _
[E] _ _ [F#] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ In a musty old [F#m] hall in Detroit they pray, in the Maritime [F#] Sailors Cathedral.
The _ church bell chimes [F#m] till it rings 29 [B] times, for each man on the [F#] Edmund Fitzgerald.
_ The legend lives [F#m] on from the Chippewa on [A] down, of the big lake they [F#] call Gitche Gumee. _ _
Superior, they [F#m] said, never gives up her death, when the gales of [B] November came early.
_ _ [F#m] _ _ [E] _ _ _ _
[A] _ _ _ [E] _ _ _ [F#] _ _