City of New Orleans John Denver

Ridin' on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail
There's 15 cars, and 15 restless riders
3 conductors and 25 sacks of mail

All along a southbound odyssey
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 graveyards 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, ain't no one keepin' score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels a rumblin' through the floor

And the son's of Pullman Porter's and the son's of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpet made of steel
And the days are full of restless, and the dreams are full of memories
And the echoes of the freight train whistles clear