Ridin' on the city of New Orleans   Illinois Central Monday mornin' rail   Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders   Three conductors, twenty-five sacks of mail   Out on the southbound odyssey   The train pulls out of Kakakee   And it rolls along past houses, farms and fields   Passin' towns that have no name   Freight yards full of old black men   And the graveyards 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   I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done      Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car   Penny a point ain't nobody keepin' score   Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle   Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor   And the sons of pullman porters   And the sons of engineers   Ride their daddy's magic carpet make of steel   Mothers with their babes asleep   Are rockin' to the 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   I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done      Nighttime on the city of New Orleans   Changin' cars in Memphis, Tennessee   Halfway home and we'll be there by mornin'   Thru 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 that song again   The passengers will please refrain   This train's got the disappearin' 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   I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done