The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot Absolutely Wrecks Me Ceramic Mug | 50th Anniversary: November 10th, 2025 | Buy now!

*** The 50th anniversary of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald is this year, November 10th, 2025. Buy now to get before then. ***

A Tribute to the Great Lakes Tragedy: Warm up with a cup of your favorite beverage in this unique mug. Featuring the iconic lyric, "Absolutely Wrecks Me" from Gordon Lightfoot's haunting ballad, "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald," this mug is a must-have for fans of folk music and maritime history. The gales of November have come early.

Perfect for:
- Music lovers: A perfect vessel for your morning coffee or evening tea.
- History buffs: A nostalgic reminder of the Great Lakes' tragic past.
- Gift-giving: A unique and thoughtful gift for any occasion.

Sip your drink and let the lyrics of Gordon Lightfoot transport you to the stormy waters of Lake Superior.

Be sure to check out some of our other 'Wreck' merch:
- Hat: https://highhorsegoods.etsy.com/listing/1821749517
- Bumper Sticker: https://highhorsegoods.etsy.com/listing/1812811575
- Bumper Magnet: https://highhorsegoods.etsy.com/listing/1798579920

🚢 Ceramic
🚢 11 oz mug dimensions: 3.8″ (9.6 cm) in height, 3.2″ (8.2 cm) in diameter
🚢 15 oz mug dimensions: 4.7″ (11.9 cm) in height, 3.3″ (8.5 cm) in diameter
🚢 20 oz mug dimensions: 4.3″ (10.9 cm) in height, 3.7″ (9.3 cm) in diameter
🚢 Lead and BPA-free material
🚢 Dishwasher and microwave safe

This product is made especially for you as soon as you place an order, which is why it takes us a bit longer to deliver it to you. Making products on demand instead of in bulk helps reduce overproduction, so thank you for making thoughtful purchasing decisions!

🎶
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 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 every man knew, as the captain did too
T'was 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 to feed ya"
At 7 PM, a main hatchway caved in, he said
"Fellas, it's been good to 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 his 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 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 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
🎶