City of New Orleans

Ridin' on the City of New Orleans

Illinois Central Monday mornin' rail

There's fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders

Three conductors and twentyfive sacks of mail

They're all on a southbound oddyssey

And the train pulls out of Kankakee

Rollin' along past the houses, farms and fields

Passin' towns that have no names

And freightyards full of old grey men

The grave yards of the rusted automobiles

Singin' 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 am dealin' cards with the old men in the club car.

Penny a point, aint no one keepin' score

Say won't you pass the paper bag that holds the bottle.

And I'm feelin' the wheels a rumblin' through the floor.

And the sons of Pullman Porters and the sons of engineers

Ride their father's magic carpet made of steel

And their days are full of restless and their dreams are full of memories

And the and the echos of the freight train whistle's clear

Singin' good mornin' America, how are you?

Sayin' don't you know me I'm your native son.

Yes, I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans

I'll be gone 500 miles when they day is done.

But its twilight on the City of New Orleans.

Talk about your pocket full of friends

Half way home, and we'll be there by mornin'

With no tomorrow waiting'round the bend

Singin' good night America, I love 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.

Singin' good morning 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.