City Of New Orleans by Steve Goodman Lyrics and Chords

City Of New Orleans is one of the most popular songs of the time. City Of New Orleans lyrics written by Steve Goodman. This song has sung by Steve Goodman

SingerSteve Goodman
AlbumAmerican Outlaws (Live)
Released2016
TuningE A D G B E

City Of New Orleans

Ridin’ on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday mornin’ rail
15 cars and 15 restless riders
Three conductors, 25 sacks of mail

All along the southbound odyssey, the train pulls out of Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms & 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 grumblin’ neath the floor

And the sons of Pullman porters & the sons of engineers
Ride their father’s magic carpet 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?
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…

*****

Nighttime on the City of New Orleans
Changin’ cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Halfway home, we’ll be there by mornin’
Through the Mississippi, darkness rollin’ down to the sea

But all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain’t heard the news
The conductor sings his song again
The passengers will please refrain
This train has got the disappearin’ railroad blues

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
I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done…

**********

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 the houses, farms and fields.

Passing towns that have no name,

And freight yards full of old black men,

And 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.

Dealing card games with the old men in the club cars,

A penny a point, ain’t no one keeping score.

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle,

And feel the wheels rumbling ‘neath the floor.

And the sons of Pullman porters,

And the sons of engineers,

Ride their fathers’ magic carpet made of steam.

Mothers with their babes asleep,

Rocking to the gentle beat,

And the rhythm of the rails is all they dream.

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.

Nighttime on the City of New Orleans,

Changing cars in Memphis, Tennesee.

Halfway home, and we’ll be there by morning,

Through the Misissippi darkness, rolling down to the sea.

But all the towns and people seem

To fade into a bad dream,

The steel rail still ain’t heard the news.

The conductor sings his songs again,

The 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.

Leave a Comment