City of New Orleans

Ridin' on the City of New Orleans Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail 15 cars & 15 restless riders Three conductors, and 24 sacks of mail All along the southbound odyssey the train moves out of Kentucky And moves along past houses, farms & fields Passin' trains that have no name, as which yards' full of old black men And the graveyards of rusted automobiles Good mornin' 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 500 miles when the day is done Dealin' cards with the old men on the club car Penny a point, ain't nobody keepin' score Then now pass the paper bag that holds the bottle And feel the wheels grumblin' neath the floor And the sons of Pullman porters & the sons of engineers Ride their daddies' 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 mornin' 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 500 miles when the day is done Good night 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 500 miles when the day is done