City of New Orleans

Ridin' on the City of New Orleans

Illinois Central Monday morning rail

Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders

Three conductors, twenty-five sacks of mail

Out on the southbound odyssey

The train pulls out of Kakakee

And rolls along past houses, farms, and fields

Passin' towns that have no name

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

I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done

Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car

Penny a point, ain't nobody keepin' score

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle

Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor

And the sons of pullman porters

And the sons of engineers

Ride their daddy's magic carpet made of steel

Mothers with their babes asleep

Are rockin' to the gentle beat

And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

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

I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done

Nighttime on the City of New Orleans

Changin' cars in Memphis, Tennessee

Halfway home, we'll be there by morning

Through the Mississippi darkness rollin' down to the sea

But all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream

And the steel rail still ain't heard the news

The conductor sings that song again

The passengers will please refrain

This train's got the disappearin' railroad blues

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

I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done