I can see her sailing out on Superior
A routine autumn trip with a load of ore
Sailor, you'd better take care
The Witch of November's flying through the air
Storm clouds, you'd better beware
A weather advisory the Coast Guard shares

The Chippewa have warned you but you never learn
Defy Gitchee Gumee and you won't return
West wind, with hurricane force
The Edmund Fitzgerald better change her course
Rogue waves break over the rail
While a warped, unseen bulkhead has begun to fail

Cook is trying to feed the crew but with no success
Skipper sends out a message, they are in distress
God's Love, they seek it in vain
In the wind and the darkness and the pouring rain
Ship's tossed, a weakness is found
And the twenty-nine mariners are swiftly drowned

The Anderson* is looking at its radar screen
But the Edmund Fitzgerald is no longer seen
Ship's down, the searchers all say
Fifteen miles from the anchorage at Whitefish Bay

Ship's gone, it's been forty years
The passage of decades hasn't dried the tears
Sundown, the Mariner's Hall
Sailors of the lake pause once more to recall
The loss of twenty-nine men
They'll return next November to remember again