I'm telling most parts of the anguish:
The rain is a-splashin' down
The gloomy weather, it chills the freighter
The forecast, it confounds
Whitecaps on Lake Superior
They cause the crew to rant
Deck hands, deprived of their morning rations
The freighter, it starts to slant
And the iron ore feels wetness
It's such a heavy load
As raging and ice from clouds add fright
To Ed Fitzgerald's woe

In November, the skies turn gloomy
The lake never gives up her dead
The Chippewa have lore that talks of
Gitche Gumee's dread
And in comes the old cook, he's sayin'
"It's too rough to feed 'ya tonight"
The captain wires, "We've got some water on board"
Out go the lights
And a rattling sound is heard
After the agitation grows
As wind and swells are leaping up
On Ed Fitzgerald's woe

Now the mood is dark and brittle
The witch of November is snide
The forceful gales come early
The breeze has shaken up the Fitz's pride
As a wave breaks o'er the railing
And a hatchway is rearranged
Hands are bloody, the lake is rough
The smells on deck seem strange
And the cook, he swears, and it's depressing
He feels the steady north winds blow
Bestowing gloom and particles of plight
On Ed Fitzgerald's woe

Now in Cleveland, they need the order
Procured for steel that they make
Over twenty-six thou', terms say
They're all fretting it might be late
The firm's head has gripes so frantic
He wears an iron vest
He's expressin' pure derision
Chagrin and some righteousness
And though their jobs depend upon
Fitz's great ore load
His men can't find any hint
Of Ed Fitzgerald's woe

Nighttime does find this hobbled ship
So in jeopardy, in a funk
Crashin' waves do tower and grow
And the winds, they blow with spunk
Now the cook feels his appetite get stifled
As he fears a bigger threat
Like the risk of getting sideswiped
By the Sykes if the two ships met
He does not blink, though things look grim
As the amazin' strong winds blow
Conveying the expected final twinge
Of Ed Fitzgerald's woe

Whitefish Bay, it seems so near
A distance of fifteen miles
But to the listing freighter
The waters are much too wild
They are cursed, no hope of movin'
They discharge all the iron ore load
As the big ship falls apart and sinks
No chance to reach their goal
They all pray on the frenzied vessel
No one hears them moan
As the meanest storm imparts the stuff
Of Ed Fitzgerald's woe

Within the deeps their fate is certain
The ship is shredded by the beast
No chance to slow or stop it
All hope of rescue now has ceased
They're entombed deep in Gitche Gumee
The wreck is unreal and absurd
Some say that they still felt confident
As they radioed their last words
And the waves are bounding, the wind's a-swirl
The scouters fear that it might snow
Gitche Gumee is just adding crummy foreboding
To Ed Fitzgerald's woe

In Detroit there's an old hall
Where they mourn the fated crew
The church bell counts out twenty-nine
Their woeful end is rued
Still the singing of this tragedy--
Where the heartless storm brought grief
To wives and sons and daughters--
Will never bring relief
The experts still are baffled
Just what happened, no one knows
As they seek to discover explanations
For Ed Fitzgerald's woe

Praise be to Gordon's deft tune
The gigantic sailor's song
And everybody is pouting
Just what did go wrong
We're left in doubt, no way of telling if
Diving made the captain glower
While the ship's woe lingered, bashin' them
And minutes turned to hours
The freezin' winds blow ruthlessly
Where ugly surge waves grow
And nobody ever learns enough
About Ed Fitzgerald's woe

[Harmonica solo]

Yes, I repeat this legend in my way
About the time the ore ship broke
At the tragic boat's undoing
I gasp and cry and choke
All the seamen that were victims
Yes, I mourn them and proclaim
The savage deeps are strange and graceless
The bitter squalls, a thrust untamed
Right now I don't feel so good
Won't send up no more legends, no
Not unless I make sense
Of Ed Fitzgerald's woe