Ridin' on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central Monday mornin' rail
There's 15 cars, and 15 restless riders
3 conductors and 25 sacks of mail
All along a southbound oddyssey, and the train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls along past the houses, farms and fields
Passin' trains that have no name, and freightyards full of old black men
The graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Good mornin' America, how are you?
Sayin' 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’ card games with the old men in the club car.
Penny a point, ain’t no one keepin' score
Pass the paper bag that holds that bottle.
Hear the wheels rumblin' ‘neath the floor.
And the sons of Pullman Porters, and the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpet made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep are rockin’ to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.
Good mornin' America, how are you?
Sayin' 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.
Nighttime on the City of New Orleans.
Changin’ cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Half way home, and we'll be there by mornin'
Through the Mississippi darkness rollin’ down to the sea.
And all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain't heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again the passengers will please refrain
This train has got the disappearin’ railroad blues
Good mornin' America, how are you?
Sayin' 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
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
