City of New Orleans

Ridin′ on the City of New Orleans Illinois Central Monday mornin'
rail 15 cars, and 15 restless riders 3 conductors and 25 sacks of
mail All along a southbound oddeusy the train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls along past the houses, farms and fields Passin' trains
that have no names And freightyards full of old black men The grave
yards of the rusted automobiles Singin' 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. Dealin' cards with the old men in the club car. Penny
a point, and no one keepin′ score Pass the paper bag that holds the
bottle. Feel the wheels a rumblin' near the floor. And the son's of
Pullman Porter′s and the son′s of the engineers Ride their father's
magic carpet made of steel And mothers with their babies asleep, a
rockin′ in the gentle beat And the rythym of the rail is all they
dream Singin' 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 they day is done. Nighttime on
the City of New Orleans. Changing cars in Memphis, Tennesee Half
way home, and we′ll be there by mornin' Through the Mississippi
darkness rolling down to the sea But all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream The steel rails still ain′t heard the news
The conductor sings his song again The passengers will please
refrain This train has got the disapearing blues Singin' 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 they day is done. Singin' 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 they
day is done. I′ll be gone 500 miles when they day is done.