City Of New Orleans
Riding on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, monday morning rail
fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
three conductors, twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the southbound Odysse
the train pulls out of Kankake
and rolls along past houses, farms and fields
passing trains that have no nam
freight yards full of old black me
and the graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Good morning America, how are ya
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 five hundred miles when the day is done
Dealin' cards to the old men in the club car
penny a point ain't no one keepin' score
pass the paper baq that holds the bottle
you can feel the wheels rumblin' neath the floor
The sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineer
ride their fathers' magic carpets made of stee
mothers with their babes aslee
are rockin' to the gentle bea
and the rhythm of the rails is all they feel
Good morning America, how are ya
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 five hundred miles when the day is done
Night-time on the City of New Orlean
changing cars in Memphis, Tennesse
halfway home, we'll be there by mornin
through the Mississippi darkness rollin' down to the sea
But all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad drea
the steel rails still ain't heard the new
the conductor sings his songs again
passengers will please refrain
this train's got the disappearin' railroad blues
Good night America, how are ya
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 five hundred miles when the day is done.
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