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Into: 
 |  G / / /  |  G / / /  |  
 
 |  G      /      D    /    |   G   / / /  |  
  Riding on the City of New Orleans 
 |  Em       /       C      /      |  G   /   /   /    |  
  Illinois Central Monday morning rail 
 |  G       /        D       /       |  G   /   /   /  |  
  Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders 
        |  Em     /    D           /       |  G  /  /  /  |  
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail. 
   |  Em        /           /    /      |  Bm          /      /     /    |  
All along the south bound odyssey, the train pulls out of Kenkakee 
 |  D      /         /      /        |  A   /   /   /   |  
  Rolls along past houses farms and fields 
 |  Em       /          /       /    |  Bm      /        /         /    |  
  Passing trains that have no name, freight yards of old black men 
   |  D      /      D7     /     |  G    /   /   /    |  
And graveyards of rusted automobiles. 
 
Chorus: 
 |  C      /      D7   /    |   G      /    /   /    |  
  Good morning America, how are you? 

                                                         1/2 1/2 
    |  Em        /        C        /     |   G      /    /   D7  D9    |  
Say, don't you know me, I'm your native son. 
       |  G          /        D    /     |  Em     Em7    A7    /   |  
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans 
       |  Bb        C       D              D9     |  G    /   /   /    |  
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done. 
 
 
Dealing card games with the old men in the club car 
Penny a point ain't noone keeping score 
Pass the paper bag but hold the bottle 
Feel the wheels rumbling 'neath the floor 
   And the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers 
   Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel 
   Mother with her babes asleep rocking to the gentle beat 
   And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel. 
Chorus. (As above) 
 
Nightime on the City of New Orleans 
Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee 
Half way home we'll be there by morning 
through the Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea. 
   But all the towns and people seem to fade into a dark dream 
   And the steel rail still ain't heard the news 
   The conductor sings his songs again, the passagers will please refrain 
   This train got the disappearing railroad blues. 
 
Chorus: 
Good night 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.
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