Please note: This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research.
G D G e C G D
Ridin' on the City of New Orleans, Illinois Central Monday mornin' rail,
G D G e D G
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders, three conductors and 25 sacks of mail.
e h
All along the southbound odyssee, the train pulls out of Kankakee
D A
and rolls along past houses farms and fields,
e h
passin' trains that have no name, and freight yards full of old black men
D D7 G G7
and the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.
C D G e C G D
Good mornin' America, how are you? Say don't you know me, I'm your native son?
G D e
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans,
C D G
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done.
Dealin' cardgames witn old men in the clubcar,
penny a point ain't no one keepin' score,
pass the paperback that holds the bottle,
feel the wheels grumblin' neath the floor.
And the sons of pullman porters and the sons of engeneers
ride their fathers magic carpets made of steel.
Mothers with their babies sleep, rockin' to the gentle beat,
and the rythm of the wheel is all they feel.
Good mornin' America, how are you?...
Night time on the City of New Orleans, changing cars in Memphis Tennessee;
Half way home, we'll be there by mornin',
with the Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea.
But all the towns in people sleep, fade into a bad dream,
and the steelen wheel still ain't heard the news.
The conductor sings his song again, the passengers will please refrain,
this train does disappear in railroad blue.
Good mornin' America, how are you?...