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City Of New Orleans

Riding on 
the "City of New Orleans" 
Illinois Central, 
Monday mornin' rail 
Fifteen cars and 
fifteen restless riders 
three conductors, 
twenty~five sacks of mail 

Out on the southbound odyssey 
The train pulls out of Kankakee 
Rolling past the houses, 
farms and fields 
Passing towns that have no name 
The freight yards 
full of old black men 
And the graveyards of 
the rusted automobiles 

Good morning America 
How are ya? 
And 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 five hundred miles 
when the day is done 

Dealin' cards with 
the old men in the club car 
Penny a point, 
ain't no one keeping score 

Pass the paper bag 
that holds the bottle 
Feel the wheels 
rumbling 'neath the floor 
And the sons of Pullman Forbes 
and the sons of engineers 
ride their father's magic 
carpets made of steel 

And mothers 
with their babes asleep 
a'rockin' to the gentle beat 
And the rhythm of the rail 
is all they hear 

Good morning America 
How are ya? 
And 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 five hundred miles 
when the day is done 

Night time on 
the "City of New Orleans" 
Changing cars in 
Memphis, Tennessee 
Halfway home, 
we'll be there by mornin' 
Thru the Mississippi 
darkness rollin' down to the sea 

But all the towns and cities 
seem to fade into a bad dream 
And the steel rail 
still ain't heard the news 

The conductor 
sings his songs again 
The passengers 
will please refrain 
This train's got the 
disappearing railroad blues 

Good morning America 
How are ya? 
Ah, 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 five hundred miles 
when the day is done