The

le-

gend

lives

on

from

the

Chip-

pe-

wa

on

down

Of

the

big

lake

they

called

Git-

che

Gu-

mee

The

lake,

it

is

said,

ne-

ver

gives

up

her

dead

When

the

skie-

s

of

No-

vem-

ber

turn

gloo-

my

With

a

load

of

i-

ron

ore

twen-

ty-

six

thou-

sand

tons

more

Than

the

Ed-

mund

Fitz-

ge-

rald

weighed

emp-

ty

That

good

ship

and

true

was

a

bone

to

be

chewed

When

the

"Ga-

les

of

No-

vem-

ber"

came

ear-

ly

The

ship

was

the

pri-

de

of

the

A-

me-

ri-

can

si-

de

Co-

ming

back

from

some

mill

in

Wis-

co-

n-

sin

As

the

big

freigh-

ters

go,

it

was

big-

ger

than

most

With

a

crew

and

good

cap-

tain

well

sea-

so-

ned

Con-

clu-

ding

some

terms

with

a

cou-

ple

of

steel

firms

When

they

left

ful-

ly

loa-

ded

for

Cle-

ve-

la-

nd

And

la-

ter

that

nigh-

t

when

the

ship's

bell

rang

Could

it

be

the

north

wind

they'd

been

fee-

li-

n'?

The

wind

in

the

wi-

res

made

a

tat-

tle-

tale

sound

And

a

wave

broke

o-

ver

the

rai-

ling

And

ev-

'ry

man

knew,

as

the

cap-

tain

did

too

'twas

the

"Witch

of

No-

vem-

ber"

come

stea-

li-

n'

The

dawn

came

late

and

the

break-

fast

had

to

wait

When

the

Gales

of

No-

vem-

ber

came

sla-

shi-

n'

When

af-

ter-

noon

came

it

was

free-

zin'

rain

In

the

face

of

a

hur-

ri-

cane

west

wind

When

sup-

per-

time

came

the

old

cook

came

on

deck

sa-

yin'

"Fel-

las,

it's

too

rough

t-

'fee-

d

ya

"

At

se-

ven

P.-

M.

a

main

hatch-

way

caved

in;

he

said

"Fel-

las,

it's

bin

good

t-

'know

ya

!"

The

cap-

tain

wired

in

he

had

wa-

ter

co-

min'

in

And

the

good

ship

and

crew

was

in

pe-

ri-

l

And

la-

ter

that

night

when

'is

ligh-

ts

went

out-

ta

sight

Came

the

wreck

of

the

Ed-

mund

Fitz-

ge-

ra-

ld

Does

a-

ny

one

know

where

the

love

of

God

goes

When

the

waves

turn

the

mi-

nutes

to

ho-

u-

rs?

The

sear-

chers

all

say

they'd

have

ma-

de

White-

fish

Bay

If

they'd

put

fif-

teen

more

miles

be-

hind

'er

They

might

have

split

up

or

they

might

have

cap-

sized;

They

may

have

broke

deep

and

took

wa-

te-

r

And

all

that

re-

mains

is

the

fa-

ces

and

the

na-

mes

Of

the

wives

and

the

sons

and

the

daugh-

te-

rs

Lake

Hu-

ron

ro-

lls,

Su-

pe-

ri-

or

sings

In

the

rooms

of

her

ice-

wa-

ter

ma-

n-

sio-

n

Old

Mi-

chi-

gan

steams

like

a

young

man's

dreams;

The

is-

lands

and

bays

are

for

spo-

rts-

me-

n

And

far-

ther

be-

low

Lake

On-

ta-

ri-

o

Takes

in

what

Lake

E-

rie

can

send

her

And

the

i-

ron

boats

go

as

the

ma-

ri-

ners

all

know

With

the

Gales

of

No-

vem-

ber

re-

me-

m-

be-

red

In

a

mus-

ty

old

hall

in

Det-

ro-

it

they

prayed

In

the

"Ma-

ri-

time

Sai-

lors'

Ca-

thed-

ral"

The

church

bell

chimed

'til

it

rang

twen-

ty-

nine

times

For

each

man

on

the

Ed-

mund

Fitz-

ge-

ra-

ld

The

le-

gend

lives

on

from

the

Chip-

pe-

wa

on

down

Of

the

bi-

g

lake

they

call

Git-

che

Gu-

mee

"Su-

pe-

ri-

or,"

they

said,

"ne-

ver

gives

up

her

dead

When

the

ga-

les

of

No-

vem-

ber

come

ear-

ly

!"