City of New Orleans

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 Kanknkee

Rolls along past houses, farms and fields

Passin' graves that have no name, freight yards full of old black men

And the graveyards of rusted automobiles

R: Good mornin' America, how are you?

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 in the club car

Penny a point, ain't no one keepin' score

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle

And feel the wheels grumblin' neath the floor

And the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers

Ride their fathers' 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

R: Good mornin' America, how are you?...

Night time on the City of New Orleans

Changin' cars in Memphis, Tennessee

Halfway home, we'll be there by mornin'

Thru the Mississippi darkness rollin' down to the sea

But all the towns and 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 the disappearing railroad blues

R: Good mornin' America, how are you?...