Intro : Ridin'on the City of New Orleans, Illinois Central,      Monday mornin'rail, fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail. All along the south bound odyssey, the train pulls out at Kankakee, rolls along past houses, farms, and fields. Passing trains that have no name, and freight yards full of old black men and the graveyards of the rusted automobiles. [Refrain :] Good mornin'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'cards to 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 rumblin''neath the floor. And the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers ride their fathers'magic carpets made of steel, mothers with their babes asleep are rockin'to the gentle beat, and the rythm of the wheels is all they feel [Refrain] (instrumental) Night time 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, the steel rail still ain't heard the news. The conductor sings his song again : "Passengers will please Refrain !" The train has got the disapp'rin'railroad blues. [Refrain] ...