City Of New Orleans 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, ain't'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