City Of New Orleans

Ridin' on the City of New Orleans Illinois Central Monday mornin' rail There's 15 cars, and 15 restless riders 3 conductors and 25 sacks of mail All along a southbound oddyssey, and the train pulls out of Kankakee And rolls along past the houses, farms and fields Passin' towns that have no name, and freightyards full of old grey men The graveyards of the rusted automobiles Singin' good mornin' America, how are you? Sayin' 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. I was playin' cards with the old men in the club car. Penny a point, ain’t no one keepin' score Pass the paper bag that holds that bottle. I can hear the wheels rumblin' thru the floor. And the sons of Pullman Porters, and the sons of engineers Ride their father's magic carpet made of steel And their days are full of restless, and their dreams are full of mem'ries And the echos of the freight train whistle’s clear Singin' good mornin' America, how are you? Sayin' 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. And its twilight on the City of New Orleans. Talk about your pocket full of friends Half way home, and we'll be there by mornin' With no tomorrow waiting ‘round the bend Singin' good night' America, how are you? Sayin' 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. Singin' good mornin' America, how are you? Sayin' 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.