Riding on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central Mo nday morning ra il
Fifteen cars and fifteen r estless rid ers
Three conductors and t wenty-five sacks of mail.
All a long the south bound odyssey, the t rain pulls out of Kenkakee
Rolls along past houses farms and f ields
Passing trains that have no name, fr eight yards of old black men
And graveyards of r usted automob iles.
Good morning A merica, how are you ?
Say, don't you know me, I' m your native son.
I'm the t rain they call th e City of New Orleans
I'll be gone five h undred miles when the day is done.
Dealing card games with the o ld men in the cl ub car
Penny a point ain't n o one keeping sc ore
Pass the paper bag but h old the b ottle
Feel the wheels r umbling 'neath the f loor
And the sons of Pullman porters and the so ns of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of s teel
Mother with her babes asleep r ocking to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the r ails is all they f eel.
Good morning A merica, how are you ?
Say, don't you know me, I' m your native son.
I'm the t rain they call th e City of New Orleans
I'll be gone five h undred miles when the day is done.
Night time on the C ity of New Orleans
Changing cars in M emphis Tenness ee
Halfway home w e'll be there by m orning
Through the Mississippi darkness r olling down to the s ea.
But all the towns and people seem to f ade into a dark dream
And the steel rail still ain't heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again, the pa ssengers will please Refrain
This train got the disapp earing railroad b lues.
Good morning A merica, how are you ?
Say, don't you know me, I' m your native son.
I'm the t rain they call th e City of New Orleans
I'll be gone five h undred miles when the day is done.