Link: [Arlo Guthrie]
Link: [On YouTube]
City of New Orleans
Arlo Guthrie
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
Passin’ trains that have no name
Freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobile
Good mornin’ America
How are ya
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 five hundred miles
When the day is done
Dealin’ card games
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
Feel the wheels
Rumblin’ ‘neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman porters
And 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 ya
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 five hundred 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’
Through 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’s got the disappearin’
Railroad blues
Good night America
How are ya
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 five hundred miles
When the day is done
Link: [Willie Nelson]
Link: [On YouTube]
City of New Orleans
Willie Nelson
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
Passin’ trains that have no name
And freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobile
Good mornin’ America
How are ya
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’ card games
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
Feel the wheels
Rumblin’ ‘neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman porters
And 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 ya
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 five hundred 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’
Through 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 has got
The disappearin’ railroad blues
Good night America
How are ya
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 five hundred miles
When the day is done
Lyrics From: [elyrics.net]
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