Steve Goodman - City of New Orleans

^GRiding on the ^DCity of New ^GOrleans, ^EmIllinois Central, ^CMonday morning ^Grail, ^GFifteen cars and ^Dfifteen restless ^Griders, ^EmThree conductors, and ^Dtwenty five sacks of ^Gmail.

^EmAll along the southbound odyssey, ^BmThe train pulls out of Kankakee, ^Drolls along the houses, farms and ^Afields.

^EmPassing trains that have no name, ^BmAnd freight yards full of old black men, ^DAnd graveyards of the rusted ^Gautomobiles.

^CGood morning ^DAmerica, how ^Gare you' Say ^Emdon't you know me, ^CI'm your native ^Gson. ^D I'm the ^Gtrain they call the ^DCity of New ^EmOrleans, I'll be ^Cgone five hundred ^Dmiles when the day is ^Gdone.

Dealing ^Gcard games with the ^Dold men in the ^Gclub cars, A ^Empenny a point, ain't ^Cno one keeping ^Gscore. ^GPass the paper ^Dbag that holds the ^Gbottle, And ^Emfeel the wheels ^Drumbling 'neath the ^Gfloor.

^EmAnd the sons of Pullman porters, ^BmAnd the sons of engineers, ^DRide their fathers' magic carpet made of ^Asteel.

^EmMothers with their babes asleep, ^BmRocking to the gentle beat, And the ^Drhythm of the rails is all they ^Gdream.

^CGood morning ^DAmerica, how ^Gare you' Say ^Emdon't you know me, ^CI'm your native ^Gson. ^D I'm the ^Gtrain they call the ^DCity of New ^EmOrleans, I'll be ^Cgone five hundred ^Dmiles when the day is ^Gdone.

^GNighttime on the ^DCity of New ^GOrleans, ^EmChanging cars in ^CMemphis, ^GTennesee. ^GHalfway home, and ^Dwe'll be there by ^Gmorning, Through the ^EmMississippi darkness, ^Drolling down to the ^Gsea.

^EmBut all the towns and people seem ^BmTo fade into a bad dream, And the ^Dsteel rail still ain't heard the ^Anews.

^EmThe conductor sings his songs again, ^BmThe passengers will please refrain, ^DThis train's got the disappearin' railroad ^Gblues.

^CGood night Am^Derica, how ar^Ge you' Say ^Emdon't you know me, ^CI'm your native ^Gson. ^D I'm the ^Gtrain they call the ^DCity of New ^EmOrleans, I'll be ^Cgone five hundred ^Dmiles when the day is ^Gdone.