City Of New Orleans Letra

Three conductors, 25 sacks of mail

All along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms and 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 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 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 rails 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