Ridin' on the City of New Orleans Illinois Central Monday morning rail
15 cars and 15 restless riders 3 conductors and 24 sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey the train rolls out of Kankakee
And moves along past houses farms and fields
Passin' trains that have no name and switchyards full of old black men
And graveyards full of rusted automobiles

Good morning America how are you
Say don't you know me I'm your native son
I'm a train they call the City of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Dealin' cards with an old man on the club car
Many a point nobody's keepin' score
Hey now pass that paper bag that holds the bottle
And feel the wheels a rumblin' neath the floor
And the sons of poor men porters and the sons of engineers
Ride their daddy's magic carpet made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep rockin' to that gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

Good morning America...

Night time on the City of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee
Half way home and 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 song again the passengers will please refrain
This train's got the disappearin' railroad blues

Good morning America...
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

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