G	D	G
Riding on the	City of New Or	leans,

Em	C	G
Illinois Central,	Monday morning	rail,

G	D	G
Fifteen cars and fi	fteen restless	riders,

	Em	D	G
Three con	ductors, and t	wenty five sacks of	mail.

	Em
All a	long the southbound odyssey,

	Bm
The	train pulls out of Kankakee,

	D	A
And	rolls along the houses, farms and	fields.

Em

Passing trains that have no name,

	Bm
And	freight yards full of old black men,

	D	G
And	graveyards of the rusted automo	biles.

	C	D	G
	Good morning Am	erica, how a	re you?

	Em	C	G
Say	don’t you know me,	I’m your native	son.

	D	G	D	Em
	I’m the	train they call the	City of New	Orleans,

	F	C	D	G
I’ll be gon	e five	hundred miles	when the day is	done.

Dealing card games with the old men in the club cars,

A penny a point, ain’t no one keeping score.

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle,

And feel the wheels rumbling ’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,

Rocking to the gentle beat,

And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.

Nighttime on the City of New Orleans,

Changing cars in Memphis, Tennesee.

Halfway home, and we’ll be there by morning,

Through the Misissippi darkness, rolling down to the sea.

But all the towns and people seem

To fade into a bad dream,

The steel rail still ain’t heard the news.

The conductor sings his songs again,

The passengers will please refrain,

This train’s got the disappearin’ railroad blues.

Goodnight America, how are you?

Say 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 five hundred miles when the day is done.

Source: http://tabs.ultimate-guitar.com/s/steve_goodman/city_of_new_orleans_crd.htm