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John Denver
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City Of New Orleans
Singing Good Morning A-merica. How are you?
Saying don't you know me, I'm your native son?
I'm the train they call 'City of New Orleans'.
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the days is done
I was dealing cards with the old man in the club car
Plenty of points there ain't no one keeping score
Say won't you pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
And feel the wheels rumbling through the floor
And the sons of foregone porters and the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpet made of steel
And the days were full of restless and their dreams were full of memories
And the echos of the freight train whistles clear
Singing Good Morning A-merica. How are you?
Saying don't you know me, I'm your native son?
Yes I'm the train they call 'City of New Orleans'.
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I'll be gone five hundred miles when the days is done
But it's twilight on the city of New Orleans
Talk about a pocket full of friends
Halfway home, we'll be there by morning
With no tomorrow waiting 'round of then
Singing goodbye A-merica. I love you
Saying don't you know me, I'm your native son?
I'm the train they call 'City of New Orleans'.
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the days is done
Singing Good Morning A-merica. How are you?
Saying don't you know me, I'm your native son?
Yes I'm the train they call the 'City of New Orleans'.
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the days is done
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