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Arlo Guthrie - 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, twenty-five sacks of mail. All along the southbound Odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee and rolls along the houses, farms and fields, passing towns that had no names and freight yards full of old black men and the graveyards of the 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 man in the club car, penny a point and no one's keepin' score, pass the paper bag that holds the bottle, you can feel the wheels grumblin' neath the floor. And the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers ride their father's magic carpet made of steam mothers with their babies asleep are rochin' 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. Night-time on the City of New Orleans changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee halfway home, we'll be there by morning through the Mississippi darkness rollin' down to the sea. But all the towns and people seen to fade into a bad dream and the steel rail hasn't heard the news the conductor sings his songs again, it's passengers will please refrain, this train's got the disappearin' railroad blues. Goodnight 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 |
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