City of New Orleans Lyrics
| Song | City of New Orleans |
| Artist | Arlo Guthrie |
| Album | Hobo's Lullaby |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Goodman | |
| City of New Orleans | |
| Ridin' on the City of New Orleans | |
| Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail | |
| 15 cars & 15 restless riders | |
| Three conductors, 25 sacks of mail | |
| All along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee | |
| Rolls along past houses, farms & fields | |
| Passin' trains that have no names, freight yards full of old black men | |
| And the graveyards of rusted automobiles | |
| 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 | |
| I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done | |
| Dealin' cards with the old men in the club car | |
| Penny a point, ain't no one keepin' score | |
| Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle | |
| And feel the wheels rumblin' neath the floor | |
| And the sons of Pullman porters & the sons of engineers | |
| Ride their fathers' magic carpets 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, we'll be there by mornin' | |
| Thru 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 his songs again | |
| "The passengers will please refrain: | |
| This train got the disappea rin' railroad blues | |
| Good night 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. |
| zuo ci : Goodman | |
| City of New Orleans | |
| Ridin' on the City of New Orleans | |
| Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail | |
| 15 cars 15 restless riders | |
| Three conductors, 25 sacks of mail | |
| All along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee | |
| Rolls along past houses, farms fields | |
| Passin' trains that have no names, freight yards full of old black men | |
| And the graveyards of rusted automobiles | |
| 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 | |
| I' ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done | |
| Dealin' cards with the old men in the club car | |
| Penny a point, ain' t no one keepin' score | |
| Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle | |
| And feel the wheels rumblin' neath the floor | |
| And the sons of Pullman porters the sons of engineers | |
| Ride their fathers' magic carpets 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, we' ll be there by mornin' | |
| Thru 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 his songs again | |
| " The passengers will please refrain: | |
| This train got the disappea rin' railroad blues | |
| Good night 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. |
| zuò cí : Goodman | |
| City of New Orleans | |
| Ridin' on the City of New Orleans | |
| Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail | |
| 15 cars 15 restless riders | |
| Three conductors, 25 sacks of mail | |
| All along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee | |
| Rolls along past houses, farms fields | |
| Passin' trains that have no names, freight yards full of old black men | |
| And the graveyards of rusted automobiles | |
| 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 | |
| I' ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done | |
| Dealin' cards with the old men in the club car | |
| Penny a point, ain' t no one keepin' score | |
| Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle | |
| And feel the wheels rumblin' neath the floor | |
| And the sons of Pullman porters the sons of engineers | |
| Ride their fathers' magic carpets 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, we' ll be there by mornin' | |
| Thru 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 his songs again | |
| " The passengers will please refrain: | |
| This train got the disappea rin' railroad blues | |
| Good night 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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