Lyrics:

Riding on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
15 cars and 15 restless riders
Three conductors and 25 sacks of mail

All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulls out at Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms and fields

Passing trains that have no names
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 500 miles when the day is done

Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car
Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor

And the sons of Pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel

Mothers with their babes asleep
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails 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 500 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

But 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 songs again
The passengers will please refrain
This train got the disappearing railroad blues

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 500 miles when the day is done

 

Pete Seeger at Clearwater Festival, 2009  by Pilgrim on this road - Bill Revill
https://www.flickr.com/photos/billrevill/

He's playing with his grandson Tao's band. The power of song at work... 

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