City of New Orleans

 

 

Ridin' 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
All along the southbound odyssey, Pullin’ out of Kankakee
Rollin’ past the houses farms and fields

Passing trains that have no name and freight yards full of old black men

And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles

  

Good morning, America. How are you?

Say don't you know me? I'm your native son

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

And I'll be gone five hundred 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 rumbling '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

  

Chorus [followed by instrumental solo]

 

Night time on the City of New Orleans changing cars in Memphis Tennessee
Halfway home we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness rolling 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 disappearing railroad blues

 

Good night, America. How are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
And I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done