Ridin' on the
City of New Orleans
lllinois Central
Monday mornin' rail
Fifteen cars and
Fifteen restless riders
Three conductors
Twenty-five
Sacks of mail
All out on a
Southbound odyssey
The train pulls out
Of Kankakee
Rolls past
The houses, farms
And fields
Passin' towns that
Have no name
Freightyards full of
Old black men
And the graveyards
Of the rusted
Automobiles
Good mornin'
America, how are you?
'Don't you know me,
I'm your native son?
Well, I'm the train
They call the
City of New Orleans
I'll be gone
Five hundred miles
When the day is done
Dealin' cards
To the old men
In the club car
Penny a point
And no one's
Keepin' score
Well, pass the
Paper bag that
Holds the bottle
You can feel
The wheels grumblin'
'Neath the floor
And the sons of
Pullman porters
And the sons of
Engineers
Ride their father's
Magic carpet
Made of steel
Mothers with their
Babies asleep are
Rockin' to the
Gentle beat
And the rhythm of
The rails is all
They dream
Good mornin'
America, how are you?
Well, don't you,
Know me,
And I'm your,
Native son?
Well, I'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, Tennessee
Halfway home
And we'll be there
By mornin'
Through the
Mississippi darkness
Rollin' out to the sea
But all the towns
And people seem
To fade into
A bad dream
The steel rail
Hasn't heard the news
The conductor sings
His song, again
The passengers will
Please refrain
This train's got the
Disappearin'
Railroad blues
Good mornin'
America, how are you?
'Don't you know me,
I'm your native son?
Well, I'm the train
They call the
City of New Orleans
I'll be gone
Five hundred miles
When the day is done...