The 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 Kankakee

And moves along past houses, farms and fields

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

And the graveyards full of 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

I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

Dealin' cards with the old men on the club car

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

Hey, 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 daddies' 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

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

I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

It's night time on the City of New Orleans

Changin' cars in Memphis, Tennessee

Halfway home, and we'll be there by mornin'

Through the Mississippi darkness rollin' down to the sea

And the towns and all the 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 to disappear i railroad blues

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

I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done