CITY OF NEW ORLEANS -
Riding on the City of New Orleans, Illinois Central Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders, three con-ductors and twenty-five sacks of mail.
All a-long the southbound odyssey the train pulls out at Kankakee
And rolls along past houses, farms and fields.
Passin' trains that have no names, freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automo-biles.
Good morning A-merica 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 five hundred miles when the day is done.
Dealin' card games with the young man 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.