Ridin' 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 rolls along past houses farms and fields
Passing trains that have no name and graveyards 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 the train they call the City of New Orleans
And I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done


Dealin' cards with an old man at the club car
Many a point ain't no one keepin' score
Pass that paper bag that holds the bottle

And 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 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...
[ guitar ]
Night time 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 songs again the passengers will please

refrain
This train has got the disappearing railroad blues
Good morning America...