City of New Orleans
Ridin' on the City of New OrleansIllinois Central, Monday mornin' railFifteen cars and fifteen restless ridersThree conductors and twenty-five sacks of mailAll along the south-bound odysseyThe train pulls out at KankakeeAnd rolls along past houses, farms and fieldsPassin' trains that have no namesAnd freight yards full of old black menAnd the grave-yards of the rusted automobiles
Good morning America, how are you?Say don't you know me, I'm your native sonI'm the train they call the "City of New Orleans"And I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done
Dealin' cards with the old men in the club carPenny a point ain't no one keepin' scorePass the paper bag that holds the bottleFeel the wheels grumblin' 'neath the floorAnd the sons of Pullman porters, and the sons of engineersRide their father's magic carpet made of steelMothers with their babes asleep, rockin' to the gentle beatAnd the rhythm of the rails is all they feel
Good morning America, how are you?Say don't you know me, I'm your native sonI'm the train they call the "City of New Orleans"I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done
Night time on the "City of New Orleans"Changin' cars in Memphis, TennesseeHalfway home, we'll be there by mornin'Through the Mississippi darkness rollin' down to the seaBut all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dreamAnd the steel rails still ain't heard the newsThe conductor sings his songs again:"The passengers will please refrain ..."This train has got the disappearin' railroad blues.
Good morning America, how are you?Say don't you know me, I'm your native sonI'm the train they call the "City of New Orleans"I'll be gone five-hundred miles when the day is done