Lyrics:

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



Their out on the southbound odyssey

The train pulls out of Kankakee

Rolls along past houses, farms and fields

Passin' towns that have no names

Freightyards full of old grey men

And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.



Singing 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 with the old men in the club car

Penny a point, aint't no one keepin score

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle

Feel the wheels rumblin 'neath the floor



And the sons of the pullman porters

And the sons of the engineers

Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel



And the days are full of restless

And the dreams are full of memories

And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel



Singing 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 before the day is done



Well, its twilight on the city of New Orleans

Talk about your pocketful of friends

Half way home and we'll be there by mornin'

No tomorrow waitin' round the bend



Singing 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 before the day is done



Singing good night 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 before the day is done