Ridin` on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday mornin` rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the south-bound 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 grave-yards of the rusted automobiles
Good morning America, how are you?
Say 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` cards 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 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 babes asleep, rockin` to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel
Good morning America, how are you?
Say 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
Changin` 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 people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain`t heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again
The passengers will please refrain
This train has got the disappearin` railroad blues.
Goodnight America, how are you?
Say 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 Send " City Of New Orleans" Ringtone to your Cell