Ridin' on the city of New Orleans

Illinois Central Monday mornin' rail

Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders

Three conductors, twenty-five sacks of mail

Out on the southbound odyssey

The train pulls out of Kakakee

And it rolls along past houses, farms and fields

Passin' towns that have no name

Freight yards full of old black men

And the graveyards of rusted automobiles



Good morning, 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 five hundred miles when the day is done



Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car

Penny a point ain't nobody 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 daddy's magic carpet make of steel

Mothers with their babes asleep

Are rockin' to the gentle beat

And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel



Good morning, 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 five hundred miles when the day is done



Nighttime on the city of New Orleans

Changin' cars in Memphis, Tennessee

Halfway home and 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 that song again

The passengers will please refrain

This train's got the disappearin' railroad blues



Good morning, 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 five hundred miles when the day is done