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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 

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 rumblin' neath the floor 

And the sons of Pullman porters & the sons of engineers 
Ride their fathers' magic carpets 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.

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 and people seem to fade into a bad dream 
And the steel rail still ain't heard the news 
The conductor sings his songs again 
"The passengers will please refrain: 
This train got the disappea rin' railroad blues

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.

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