City of New Orleans

Riding on the City of New Orleans

Illinois Central Monday morning rail

Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders

Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail

On the southbound odyssey

The train goes out at Kankakee

Rolls along past houses, farms and fields

Passin' trains that have no name

Freight yards full of old black men

And the graveyard of the rusted automobiles

Good morning 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 five hundred miles when the day is done

Playin' cards with the old men in the club car

A penny a point ain't no one keepin' score

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle

And feel the wheels rumblin' beneath the floor

And the sons of pullman porters

And the sons of engineers

Ride their father's magic carpet made of steam

Mothers with their babes asleep

Rocking to the gentle beat

The rhythm of the rails is all they dream

Good morning 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 five hundred miles when the day is done

Nighttime on The City of New Orleans

Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee

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

Through the Mississippi darkness

Rolling down to the sea

And all the towns and people seem

To change into a bad dream

The steel rails still ain't heard the news

The conductor sings his songs again

Passengers will please refrain

This train's got to disappear in railroad blues

Good night, 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 five hundred miles when the day is done

I'll be gone a million miles when the race is run

I'll be gooooOOOOOne