Ridin' on the City of New Orleans Illinois Central Monday morning rail 15 cars and 15 restless riders 3 conductors and 24 sacks of mail All along the southbound odyssey the train rolls out of Kankakee And moves along past houses farms and fields Passin' trains that have no name and switchyards full of old black men And graveyards full of rusted automobiles
Good morning America how are you Say don't you know me I'm your native son I'm a train they call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Dealin' cards with an old man on the club car Many a point nobody's keepin' score Hey now pass that paper bag that holds the bottle And feel the wheels a rumblin' neath the floor And the sons of poor men porters and the sons of engineers Ride their daddy's magic carpet made of steel Mothers with their babes asleep rockin' to that gentle beat And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel
Good morning America...
Night time on the City of New Orleans Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee Half way home and we'll be there by morning Through the Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea And 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 disappearin' railroad blues
Good morning America... I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done