Ridin´ on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday mornin´ rail
15 cars & 15 restless riders
Three conductors, 25 sacks of mail

All along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms & fields
Passin´ graves that have no name, freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of rusted automobiles

{Chorus:}
Good mornin´ 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 500 miles when the day is done

Dealin´ cards with the old men in the club car
Penny a point, ain´t no one keepin´ score
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 fathers´ 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

{repeat Chorus}

Night time on the City of New Orleans
Changin´ cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Halfway home, we´ll be there by mornin´
Thru the Mississippi darkness rollin´ down to the sea

But all the towns & people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain´t heard the news
The conductor sings his song again
"The passengers will please refrain:
This train has got the disappearin´ railroad blues