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' graves that have no name, 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.