Vocal note - melody starts on the 5
Originally in F#, I play in D capo 3, so in F
| D | A | D |
| Riding on the | City of New Or | leans |
| Bm | G | D |
| Illinois Central, | Monday morning | rail |
| D | A | D |
| Fifteen cars and fi | fteen restless | riders |
| Bm | A | D | |
| T | hree conductors, and t | wenty five sacks of |
| Bm | |
| All a | long the southbound odyssey |
| F#m | |
| The | train pulls out of Kankakee |
| A | E | |
| And | rolls along the houses, farms and | fields |
| Bm |
| Passing trains that have no name |
| F#m | |
| And | freight yards full of old black men |
| A | A7 | D | |
| And | graveyards of the r | usted automo | biles |
| G | A | D |
| Good morning Am | erica, how a | re you? |
| Bm | G | D | |
| Say | don’t you know me, | I’m your native | son |
| A | D | A | Bm | Bm/A | E/G# |
| I’m the | train they call the | City of New | Orleans |
| C | G | A | D | |
| I’ll be gon | e five | hundred miles | when the day is | done |
| D | A | D | |
| Dealing | card games with the | old men in the | club cars |
| Bm | G | D | |
| A | penny a point, ain’ | t no one keeping | score |
| D | A | D |
| Pass the paper | bag that holds the | bottle |
| Bm | A | D | |
| And | feel the wheels | rumbling ‘neath the | floor |
| Bm | |
| And the | sons of Pullman porters |
| F#m7 | |
| And the | sons of engineers |
| A | E | |
| Ride their | fathers’ magic carpet made of | steel |
| Bm |
| Mothers with their babes asleep |
| F#m7 |
| Rocking to the gentle beat |
| A | A7 | D | |
| And the | rhythm of the r | ails is all they | feel |
| G | A | D |
| Good morning Am | erica, how a | re you? |
| Bm | G | D | |
| Say | don’t you know me, | I’m your native | son |
| A | D | A | Bm | Bm/A | E/G# |
| I’m the | train they call the | City of New | Orleans |
| C | G | A | D | |
| I’ll be gon | e five | hundred miles | when the day is | done |
| D | A | D |
| Nighttime on the | City of New | Orleans |
| Bm | G | D |
| Changing cars in | Memphis, | Tennessee |
| D | A | D |
| Halfway home, and | we’ll be there by | morning |
| Bm | A | D | |
| Through the | Mississippi darkness, | rolling down to the | sea |
| Bm | |
| But | all the towns and people seem |
| F#m7 | |
| To | fade into a bad dream |
| A | E | |
| The | steel rail still ain’t heard the | news |
| Bm | |
| The | conductor sings his songs again |
| F#m7 | |
| The | passengers will please refrain |
| A | A7 | D | |
| This | train’s got the disapp | earin’ railroad | blues |
| G | A | D |
| Good night Am | erica, how a | re you? |
| Bm | G | D | |
| Say | don’t you know me, | I’m your native | son |
| A | D | A | Bm | Bm/A | E/G# |
| I’m the | train they call the | City of New | Orleans |
| C | G | A | D | |
| I’ll be gon | e five | hundred miles | when the day is | done |
| C | G | A | D | |
| I’ll be gon | e five | hundred miles | when the day is | done |