Ridin' on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail
15 cars and 15 restless riders
Three conductors and 25 sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey, the train pulls out from Kankakee
And rolls along past houses, farms and fields
And Passin' trains that have no names and freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Good mornin' 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 500 miles when the day is done
Dealin' cards with the old men in the club car
Penny a point, there ain't no one keepin' score
And pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
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
And mothers with their babes asleep, rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel
Good mornin' 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 500 miles when the day is done
♪
Night time on the City of New Orleans
Changin' cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Halfway home, we'll be there by mornin'
Through the Mississippi darkness rollin' down to the sea
But the towns and the people seem to fade into a bad dreams
And the steel rail still ain't heard the news
Conductor sing your songs again
And passengers will please refrain
This train has got the disappearin' railroad blues
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
And I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
And I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
And I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done