City of New Orleans - David Hasselhoff

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

They’re out on the southbound odyssey

Train pulls out of Kankakee

Rolls along past houses, farms and fields

Passing towns that have no names

Freight yards full of old gray men

And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles

Singing, ‽Good morning, America, how are you?

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 doneâ€

Dealing card 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 rumbling 'neath the floor

And the sons of the Pullman porters

And the sons of the engineers

Ride their father’s magic carpets made of steel

And the days are full of restless

And the dreams are full of memories

And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

Singing, ‽Good morning, America, how are you?

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 'fore the day is doneâ€

Well, it’s twilight on the city of New Orleans

Talk about your pocketful of friends

Half way home and we’ll be there by morning

No tomorrow waiting 'round the bend

Singing, ‽Good morning, America, how are you?

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 'fore the day is doneâ€

Singing, ‽Good night, America, how are you?

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 'fore the day is doneâ€