Riding on the city of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
There are fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail
They're all out on the southbound odyssey
And the train pulls out of Kankakee
Rolls past the houses, farms and fields
Passin' towns that have no name
And freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of rusted automobiles
Singin', "Good morning America, how are ya?"
Sayin', "Don't ya know me? I'm your native son"
Yes, 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 dealing cards with the old men in the club car
And it's penny a point, there ain't no one keeping score
Oh, won't ya past that paper bag that holds that bottle
You can feel the wheels grumblin' through the floor
And the sons of Pullman porters, the sons of engineers
They ride their father's magic carpet made of steel
And mothers with the babes asleep
Go rockin' to the gentle beat
The rhythm of the rails is all they dream
Just a-singin', "Good morning America, how are ya?"
Sayin', "Don't ya know me? I'm your native son"
And I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred when day is done
Nighttime on the City of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee
It's halfway home and we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness rollin' to the sea
And all the towns and people
They seem to fade into a bad dream
The old steel rails, it ain't heard the news
The conductor sings his song again
Its passengers'll please refrain
This train's got the disappearing railroad blues
Just a-singin', "Goodnight America, how are ya?"
Sayin', "Don't ya know me? I'm your native son"
And I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Just a-singin', "Goodnight America, how are ya?"
Sayin', "Don't ya know me? I'm your native son"
Well, I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
And I'll be gone a long, long time when day is done