City Of New Orleans Songtext

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 of Kankakee And moves along past houses farms and fields Passing trains that have no name And freighyards full of old black men And the graveyards full of rusted automobiles. Good morning America how are ya 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. Dealing card games with the old man in the club car Many a point and no one keeping score Pass that paper bag that holds the bottle Feel the wheels a rumbling neath the floor. And the sons of poor men porters and the sons of engineers Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel Mothers with their babes asleep rocking to that gentle beat And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel. Good morning America how are ya 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 Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee Half way home and 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. Good morning America how are ya 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...