Chords for The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald Gordon Lightfoot

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_ _ _ _ [F#m] _ _ _ [F#] _
_ _ _ [E] _ [B] _ _ _ [F#]
The legend lives [F#m] on from the Chippewa on down to the big lake [F#] they call Gitche Gumee.
The lake, it is said, [F#m] never gives up her dead when the [E] skies of [F#] November turn gloomy.
_ With a load of iron ore [F#m] 26,000 tons more than the Edmund [B] Fitzgerald weight empty, [F#] that good
shipping crew [F#m] was a bone to be chewed when the [B] gales of November came early.
_ [F#] The ship was the pride of the American side, coming back from some mill [B] 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 [A] when they left fully loaded for [B] Cleveland.
Then later that night [F#m] when the ship's bell rang, could it be the north wind [B] they'd been feeling?
_ _ _ [E] _ _ _ _ _
The wind and the [F#m] wires made a tattletale sound [A] when the wave broke over the railing,
[F#] _
[B] and every man [F#m] knew as the captain did, so [E] it was the witch of November come stealing. _
The dawn came [F#m] late and the breakfast had to wait when [E] the gales of November came slashing.
[F#] When afternoon came, it was [F#m] freezing rain in the face [E] of a hurricane [B] west wind.
When _ [F#] _
_ _ [B] _ _ [A] _ _ _ [F#] _
_ _ summertime came, [F#m] the old cook came on deck saying, fellas it's too rough to feed you.
[F#] _ At 7 p.m. a [F#m] main hatchway gave in, he said, fellas it's been good, I know ya.
_ [F#] The captain wired in, he had [F#m] water coming in, and the good shipping crew was [B] in peril.
Later [F#m] that night when his lights went out of sight, came the [E] wreck of the Edmund [B] Fitzgerald. _
[F#] _ _ _ [B] _ _ [A] _ _ _
[B] _ _ _ _ _ _ Does anyone [F#m] know where the love of God goes when the waves turn [B] the minutes to hours?
The searchers all [F#m] say they'd have made Whitefish Bay if they'd put 15 [B] more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have [A] capsized, they may have broke feet [B] and took water.
And all that [F#m] remains is the faces and the names of the wives and the [B] sons and the daughters.
_ _ [F#] _ _ _ [B] _
_ [F#] _ _ [E] _ [B] _ _ _ [F#]
Lake Huron [F#m] rose, Superior sings in the rooms of [B] her ice water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's [A] dreams, the islands and bays are [B] for sportsmen.
[F#] _ Farther below Lake Ontario, [A] takes in what Lake Erie can send her.
The iron boats go as the mariners all go, with the gales of November [B] remembered. _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [F#] _ _ _ [B] _ _ _ _
_ [F#m] _ _ [E] _ [B] _ _ _ _
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In a musty old [F#m] hall in Detroit, they prayed [A] in the Maritime [B] Sailors Cathedral. _
The church bell [F#m] chimed till it rang 29 times for each man on [B] the Edmund Fitzgerald. _
The legend lives [F#m] on from the chippewa on down of [E] the big lake they [B] call Gitche Gumee. _
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead when the gales of November come early. _ _ _
_ [E] _ [B] _ _ [F#] _ _ _ [B] _
_ _ _ _ [F#m] _ _ _ [B] _