Song Index Preview "City of New Orleans" (to help remember the tune).

City Of New Orleans
(Steve Goodman, Arlo Guthrie)

CGCAm
Riding on the City of New Orleans, Illinois
FCC
Central, Monday morning rail Fifteen cars and
GCAm
fifteen restless riders Three conductors,
GCAm
twenty-five sacks of mail All along the
Em
southbound odyssey the train pulls out of
G
Kankakee Rolls along past houses, farms, and
DAmEm
fields Passing towns that have no name freight
G
yards full of old Black men And the graveyards
C
of rusted automobiles.
[chorus]:
    FGC
    Good mornin' America, how are you?
    AmF
    Don't you know me, I'm your native
     
    CGC
    son? I'm the train they call the
    GAmDBb
    City of New Orleans I'll be gone
    FG
    five hundred miles when the day is
    C
    done.
CGC
Dealing card games with the old men in the club
AmFC
car, penny a point, ain't no one keeping score.
CGC
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle And
AmGC
feel the wheels grumbling 'neath the floor. And
AmEm
the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of
G
engineers Ride their fathers' magic carpet made
DAm
of steam Mothers with their babes asleep,
EmG
rockin' to the gentle beat And the rhythm of the
C
rails is all they dream.
     
[chorus]
CGCAm
Night time on the City of New Orleans, changing
FCC
cars in Memphis, Tennessee Halfway home and
GC
we'll be there by morning Through the
AmGC
Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea But
AmEm
all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad
G
dream And the steel rail still ain't heard the
DAm
news The conductor sings his song again,
EmG
"Passengers will please refrain" This train has
C
got the disappearing railroad blues.
FGCAm
Good night America, how are you? Don't you know
FCGC
me, I'm your native son? I'm the train they
GAmDBb
call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone five
     
FGC
hundred miles when the day is done.

City Of New Orleans                                   cars in Memphis, Tennessee Halfway home and       
(Steve Goodman, Arlo Guthrie)                         we'll be there by morning Through the             
                                                      Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea But  
Riding on the City of New Orleans, Illinois           all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad  
Central, Monday morning rail Fifteen cars and         dream And the steel rail still ain't heard the    
fifteen restless riders Three conductors,             news The conductor sings his song again,          
twenty-five sacks of mail All along the               "Passengers will please refrain" This train has   
southbound odyssey the train pulls out of             got the disappearing railroad blues.              
Kankakee Rolls along past houses, farms, and                                                            
fields Passing towns that have no name freight        Good night America, how are you? Don't you know   
yards full of old Black men And the graveyards        me, I'm your native son? I'm the train they       
of rusted automobiles.                                call the City of New Orleans I'll be gone five    
                                                      hundred miles when the day is done.               
[chorus]:                                                                                               
    Good mornin' 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                                                                  
    done.                                                                                               
                                                                                                        
Dealing card games 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 And                                                            
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 steam Mothers with their babes asleep,                                                               
rockin' to the gentle beat And the rhythm of the                                                        
rails is all they dream.                                                                                
                                                                                                        
[chorus]                                                                                                
                                                                                                        
Night time on the City of New Orleans, changing