John Denver City Of New Orleans
All along a southbound oddyssey
And the train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls along past the houses, farms and fields
Passin' towns that have no names
And freightyards full of old grey men
The grave yards of the rusted automobiles
Singin' good mornin' America, how are you?
Sayin' 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, aint no one keepin' score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle.
Feel the wheels a rumblin' through the floor.
And the sons of Pullman Porters and the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpet made of steel
And their days are full of restless and their dreams are full of memories
And the and the echos of the freight train whistle’s clear
Singin' good mornin' America, how are you?
Sayin' don't you know me I'm your native son.
Yes, I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when they day is done.
But its twilight on the City of New Orleans.
Talk about your pocket full of friends
Half way home, and we'll be there by mornin'
With no tomorrow waiting ‘round the bend
Singin' good night America, I love you,
Sayin' 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.
Singin' good morning America, how are you?
Sayin' 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.
