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City of New Orleans

Höfundur lags: Steve Goodman Flytjandi: Willie Nelson og Steve Goodman Sent inn af: Anonymous

[C]Riding on the [G7]city of New [C]Orleans
[Am]Illinois central [F]Monday morning [C]rail
Fifteen cars and [G7]fifteen restless [C]riders
[Am]Three conductors and [G7]twenty five sacks of [C]mail

[Am]All along the southbound Odyssey
[Em]The train pulls out of Kankakee
[G7]And rolls along the houses farms and [D7]fields
[Am]Passing towns that have no name
[Em]And freight yards full of old black men
[G7]And the graveyards of the rusted [C]automobiles

[F]Good morning [G7]America how are [C]you  
[Am]Say don't you know me [F]I'm your native [C]son  
[G7]I'm the [C]train they call the [G7]city of New [Am]Orleans
I'll be [A7#]gone five hundred [G7]miles when the day is [C]done

Dealing cards with the [G7]old men in the club [C]car  
[Am]Penny a point ain't no [F]one keeping [C]score
Pass the paper [G7]bag that holds the [C]bottle
[Am]Feel the wheels [G7]grumbling neath the [C]floor

[Am]And the sons of Pullman porters
[Em]And the sons of engineers
[G7]Ride their fathers magic carpet made of [D7]steel
[Am]Mothers with their babes a sleep
[Em]A rocking to the gentle beat
[G7]And the rhythm of the rail is all they [C]feel

[F]Good morning [G7]America how are [C]you  
[Am]Say don't you know me [F]I'm your native [C]son  
[G7]I'm the [C]train they call the [G7]city of New [Am]Orleans
I'll be [A7#]gone five hundred [G7]miles when the day is [C]done

Nighttime on the [G7]city of New [C]Orleans
[Am]Changing cars in [F]Memphis [C]Tennessee
Halfway home and [G7]we'll be there by [C]morning
[Am]Through the Mississippi darkness [G7]rolling down to the [C]sea  

[Am]And all the towns and people seem
[Em]To fade into a bad dream
[G7]And the steel rail still ain't heard the [D7]news   
[Am]The conductor sings his song again
[Em]The passengers will please refrain
[G7]This trains got the disappearing railroad [C]blues

[F]Good morning [G7]America how are [C]you  
[Am]Say don't you know me [F]I'm your native [C]son  
[G7]I'm the [C]train they call the [G7]city of New [Am]Orleans
I'll be [A7#]gone five hundred [G7]miles when the day is [C]done


Riding on the city of New Orleans
Illinois central Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three conductors and twenty five sacks of mail

All along the southbound Odyssey
The train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls along the houses farms and fields
Passing towns that have no name
And freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles

Good morning 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

Dealing cards with the old men in the club car
Penny a point ain't no one keeping score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels grumbling 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 a sleep
A rocking to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rail is all they feel

Good morning 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

Nighttime on the city of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis Tennessee
Halfway 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 rail still ain't heard the news
The conductor sings his song again
The passengers will please refrain
This trains got the disappearing railroad blues

Good morning 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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