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 Rolls along past houses, farms and fields. Passin´ trains that have no names, Freight yards full of old black men And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.
(Refrain :) Good morning America how are you? 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´ 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.
(Refrain)
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. 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 disappearing railroad blues.