Ridin' on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail
15 cars and 15 restless riders
Three conductors, 24 sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee
And moves along past houses, farms and fields
Passin' towns that have no name, freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards full of rusted automobiles
Good mornin' America, how are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son!
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
Dealin' cards with the old men on the club car
Penny a point, ain't no one keepin' score
Hey, pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels grumblin' neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers
Ride their daddies' magic carpet made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep, rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel
Good mornin' America, how are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son!
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
It's night time on the City of New Orleans
Changin' cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Halfway home, and we'll be there by mornin'
Through the Mississippi darkness rollin' down to the sea
And the towns and all the people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain't heard the news
The conductor sings his song again
"The passengers will please refrain
This train has got to disappear i railroad blues
Good mornin' America, how are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son!
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
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