DESCRIPTION:
by Gordon Lightfoot
arr. Dr. William Hobbins
Soloist - Thomas Clayton Reed

*Georgia Regents University is now known as Augusta University

From the evening's program notes:
This song was written in 1976 in response to a Newsweek article ("The Cruelest Month, November 24th, 1975 issue) describing the sinking of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, a bulk freight vessel, on lake superior on November 10, 1975. Released on a Lightfoot album in 1976, the song was #1 in Canada and #2 in the USA for a time. There are a few details of historical fact in the original lyrics that have been proven incorrect. For example, the ship was bound for detroit, not Cleveland. Since the discovery of these errors, Lightfoot performs the piece in altered form, but has not changed the copyrighted lyrics. The radio call of Captain Ernest McSorley is a matter of record, as well as the presence of the old cook. The cook was a replacement for the usual cook, who was too ill to make the voyage. Ironically, this was to be the last trip across the lake for the Edmund Fitzgerald before docking in Cleveland for the impassable winter months on Lake Superior.

Lyrics:

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called '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 crew 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 seven pm a main hatchway caved in, he said
"Fellas, it's been good t'know ya"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew were 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 searches 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

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the maritime sailors' cathedral
The church bell chimed till 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