THE WRECK OF THE EDMUND FITZGERALD--BOBBY SANDS'' FAVORITE

I woke up ten mornings ago with these lyrics  repeating in my head and I thought--that wreck must have happened in NOVEMBER  and it did.

NOVEMBER 10, 1975

Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald

Music and lyrics ©1976 by Gordon Lightfoot

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down 
of the big lake they called "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 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 they 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'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
and a wave broke over the railing.
And ev'ry man knew, as the captain did too
'twas the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
when the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
in the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came the old cook came on deck

Sayin' "Fellas, it's too rough t'feed ya."
At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in; he said,

(**2010 lyric change: At 7 p.m., it grew dark, it was then he said,)

"Fellas, it's bin good t'know ya!"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
and the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when 'is lights went outta sight
came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
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 rooms 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 twenty-nine 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 said, "never gives up her dead
when the gales of November come early!"

PROBABLY ONE OF THE GREATEST NARRATIVE SONGS WRITTEN in the 20TH CENTURY, THIS BALLAD DELIGHTED AND INSPIRED BOBBY SANDS
PLAY IT ON  YOU TUBE BY GORDON LIGHTFOOT.  It will stay in your head for days.

SO now I am reminded by the great  biography of Bobby Sands JUST AN UNFINISHED SONG  by O'Hearn which relates how Bobby loved this ballad and thought that it was the greatest song that told a story.  He sang it aloud during the prison protest and he taught it to the other men who were  imprisoned with  him.

  He confided to "The Dark", his comrade Hughes, that he wanted to write a  song about the Irish struggle to the same tune as the Edmund Fitzgerald.  He did that as O'Hearn relates that one night when they were having a sing song to keep up morale one of the other prisoners asked Bobby to sing The Wreck. 
Bobby said that he had been putting new words to it.
Then he sang THE VOYAGE a song about United Irish  prisoners who were being transported to Tasmania on a ship called The Gull.

Here are some of the lyrics that Bobby sets to the tune of The Wreck:
It was 1803 when we sailed out to sea
And away from the sweet town of Derry
For Australia bound and if we didn't drown
The mark of the  fetter we'd carry.

Here is another verse that ties together the United Irishmen and the Blanketmen:

In our own smelling slime we were lost for a time
Hoping God in his mercy would claim us
But our spirits shone high like the stars in the sky
We were rebels and no man would tame us.

Try singing these words to the tune of the Wreck and you will  see how well they fit.

Bobby was able to pass from life through suffering  to death with so much grace because he had the certainty of a martyr.
He knew that his cause, the cause of Irish Freedom,  was just and the British Imperial  claim was unjust and would be judged so by History and by God.