Willie Nelson - City of New Orleans lyrics
[Willie Nelson - 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
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls along past houses farms and fields
Passing trains that have no name
And freight yards full of old black men
And graveyards full 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
And I'll be gone five hundred miles
When the day is done
Dealing cards with an old man in the club car
Penny a point, ain't no one keeping score
Pass that paper bag that holds the bottle
And feel the wheels rumbling
Beneath the floor
And the sons of Pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their fathers' magic carpet
Made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep
Rocking to that 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
And 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
Half way home we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness rolling
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 has got the
Disappearing 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
And I'll be gone five hundred miles
When the day is done
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
Passing trains that have no name
And freight yards full of old black men
And graveyards full 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
And I'll be gone five hundred miles
When the day is done
Dealing cards with an old man in the club car
Penny a point, ain't no one keeping score
Pass that paper bag that holds the bottle
And feel the wheels rumbling
Beneath the floor
And the sons of Pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their fathers' magic carpet
Made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep
Rocking to that 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
And 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
Half way home we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness rolling
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 has got the
Disappearing 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
And I'll be gone five hundred miles
When the day is done