Riding on the City of New Orleans

Illinois Central Monday morning rail

Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders

Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail All along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out at Kankakee

And rolls along past houses, farms and fields

Passin' trains that have no names and freight yards full of old black men

And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles Good morning America how are you?

See, don't you know me I'm your native son

I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans

And I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car

Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle

Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor And the sons of pullman porters and the sons of engineers

Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel

Mothers with their babes asleep are rockin' to the gentle beat

And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel Good morning America how are you?

See, 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 Nighttime on The City of New Orleans

Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee

Half way home, we'll be there by morning

Through the Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea But all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream

And the steel rails still ain't heard the news

The conductor sings his song again, the passengers will please refrain

This train's got the disappearing railroad blues Goodnight America, how are ya?

See, 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