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Reaching for his saddlebag
He takes a tarnished cross into his hand
Then standing like a preacher now
He shouts across the ocean to the shore
Then in a blaze of tangled hooves
He gallops off across the dusty plain
In vain to search again
Where no one will hear
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
by Gordon Lightfoot
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 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 - 26,000 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 Wisconson
As the big freighters go it was bigger than most
With a crew and the 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 ships bell rang
Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling.
The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the Captain did, too,
T'was the witch of November come stealing.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashing
When afternoon came it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane West Wind
When supper time came the old cook came on deck
Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya
At 7PM a main hatchway caved in
He said fellas it's been good to know ya.
The Captain wired in he had water coming in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the words turn the minutes to hours
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd 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.
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the ruins of her ice water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams,
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered.
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral
The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 29 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 say, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early.
Canadian Railroad Trilogy
There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run.
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun.
Long before the white man and long before the wheel.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
But time has no beginnings and history has no bounds.
As to this verdant country they came from all around.
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forests tall.
Built the mines, the mills and the factories for the good of us all.
And when the young man's fancy had turned into the spring.
The railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring.
And their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day.
With many a fortune won and lost and many a debt to pay.
For they looked in the future and what did they see.
They saw an iron road running from the sea to the sea,
Bringing the goods to a young growing land.
All up from the seaports and into their hands.
"Look away," said they, "across this mighty land.
"From the eastern shore to the western strand."
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails.
We gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails.
Open her heart, let the life blood flow.
Gotta get on our way 'cos we're moving too slow.
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails.
We gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails.
Open her heart, let the life blood flow.
Gotta get on our way 'cos we're moving too slow.
Get on our way 'cos we're moving too slow.
Behind the blue Rockies the sun is declining,
The stars, they come stealing at the close of the day.
Across the wide prairie, our loved ones lie sleeping.
Beyond the dark oceans in a place far away.
We are the navvies who work upon the railway.
Swinging our hammers in the bright blazing sun.
Livin' on stew and drinking bad whiskey.
Bending our backs 'til the long days are done.
We are the navvies who work upon the railway.
Swingin' our hammers in the bright blazing sun.
Laying down track and building the bridges.
Bending our old backs 'til the railroad is done.
So over the mountains and over the plains,
Into the Muskag and into the rain.
Up the St. Lawrence all the way to Gaspe.
Swinging our hammers and drawing our pay.
Driven' 'em in and tying' 'em down.
Away to the bunkhouse and into the town.
A dollar a day and a place for my head.
A drink to the living and a toast to the dead.
Oh, the song of the future has been sung.
All the battles have been won.
On the mountain tops we stand.
All the world at our command.
We have opened up the soil.
With our teardrops and our toil.
For there was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run.
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun.
Long before the white man and long before the wheel.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
And many are the dead men
Too silent to be real.
Sixteen Miles
Early in the morning
When the dew is on
Each and every rosebud
You will find me gone.
So knock me down, pick me up
Knock me down again
Break my heart, steal my gold,
Slander my good name.
Seven lonely hours
On the morning train
To take me to a place
That a I won't be back again.
Seven lonely pullmen
Speeding down the line
Taking me away
From an old love of mine.
Sixteen miles to seven lakes
Way up along the pines
In some hidden valley
Where the world and river twine
Where the fish swim up and down
The sparkling waters fall
Where the thunder rolls
And the lonely puma calls.
Somewhere on a mountain
I'll take another name
To rid my mind of memories
And start my life again.
Somewhere in the wilderness
I'll build a cabin small
Then forget so I
Won't remember you at all.
Early in the morning
When the dew is on
Each and every rosebud
You will find me gone.
So knock me down, pick me up
Knock me down again
Break my heart, steal my gold,
Slander my good name.
CAREFREE HIGHWAY
Pickin' up the pieces of my sweet shattered dream
I wonder how the old folks are tonight
Her name was Ann and I'll be damned if I recall her face
She left me not knowin' what to do
Carefree highway, let me slip away on you
Carefree highway, you seen better days
The mornin' after blues from my head down to my shoes
Carefree highway, let me slip away
Slip away on you
Turnin' back the pages to the times I love best
I wonder if she'll ever do the same
Now the thing that I call livin' is just bein' satisfied
With knowin' I got no one left to blame
Carefree highway, got ta see you my old flame
Carefree highway, you seen better days
The mornin' after blues from my head down to my shoes
Carefree highway, let me slip away
Slip away on you
Searchin' through the fragments of my dream-shattered sleep
I wonder if the years have closed her mind
I guess it must be wanderlust or tryin' to get free
From the good old faithful feelin' we once knew
Carefree highway, let me slip away on you
Carefree highway, you seen better days
The mornin' after blues from my head down to my shoes
Carefree highway, let me slip away
Slip away on you
Let me slip away on you
Carefree highway, got ta see you my old flame
Carefree highway, you seen better days
The mornin' after blues from my head down to my shoes
Carefree highway, let me slip away
Slip away on you
