p. 2 City of New Orleans
And the sons of pullman porters, and the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel.
Mothers with their babes asleep are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.
CHORUS
Nighttime on The City of New Orleans, changing cars in Memphis, Tennes-see.
Half way home, and we'll be there by morning, through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea.
And all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain't heard the news.
The con-ductor sings his song again, the passengers will please refrain
This train's got the disap-pearing railroad blues.
CHORUS ("Good night, America)