City Of New Orleans

steve goodman

riding on the City of New Orleans
Illinois central • Monday morning rail
fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
three conductors, twentyfour sacks of mail
all along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee
and rolls along past houses, farms and fields
passing graves that have no name • freight yards full of old black men
and graveyards filled with rusted automobiles

dealing cards with the old men in the club car
penny a point : ain't no one keeping score
pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
and feel the wheels grumbling neath the floor
and the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers
ride their fathers' 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

night time on the City of New Orleans
changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee
halfway home and we'll be there by morning
through the Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea
but all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad 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's got the disappearing railroad blues"

good morning America : how are you ?
don't you know me ? I'm your native son :
I am the train they call the City of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done