Sundown, you better take care
If I find you've been creepin' 'round my back stairs

The legend lives on, from the Chippewa on down,
Of the great lake they call Gitchee 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 true 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 it 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'?