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 of Kankakee
And moves along past houses, farms and fields
Passin' trains that have no name, switch yards full of old black men
And 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 gaind with old men in the club car
Penny a point, ain't no one 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 Father'S 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

Night time on the City of New Orleans
Changin' cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Halfway home, and we'll be there by mornin'
Thru the Mississippi delta rollin' down to the sea

And the towns and all the people seem to fade into a bad 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 the disappearin 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

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