Ridin' on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail
Out on the southbound odyssey, the train pulls out of Kankakee
And it rolls past houses and farms and fields
Passin' times that have no names and freight yards full of old, black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Singin', good mornin' America, how are you?
Yeah, don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
And I'll be gone five hundred miles when day is done
And I was dealin' cards with the old men in the club car
And it's penny a point, ain't nobody keepin' score?
Just pass that paper bag that holds the bottle
You can feel the wheels grumblin' beneath the floor
And the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers
Ride their daddy's magic carpet made of steel
And mothers with their babes asleep, go rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they dream
Just a-singin', good mornin', America, how are you?
Yeah, 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 day is done
Alright
It's nighttime on the City of New Orleans
We're changin' cars in Memphis Tennessee
Halfway home, we'll be there 'by mornin'
Through the Mississippi darkness rollin' 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 that song again, its passengers will please refrain
And this train is got the disappearin' railroad blues
Singin', good night, America, how are you?
Yeah, 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 day is done
Just a-singin', good night', America, how are you?
Yeah, don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
And I'll be gone a long, long time when day is done