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107. City of New Orleans direkt zu den Akkorden

Riding on the city of New Orleans, Illinois Central Monday Morning Rail.
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders, three conductors and twentyfive pounds of mail.
All out on an southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee
Rolls past the houses, farms and fields.
Passin' towns that have no name and freight yard full of old black men
And the grave-yard of 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 five hundred miles when the day is done.

2. Strophe:
Bealin cars the old men in the club car,
Penna a point and noon's keeping score.
Pass the paper back that holds the bottle.
You can feel the wheels grumblin' neath the floor.
The sons of pullman porters and the sons of engineers
Ride the fathers' magic carpet made of steam.
And mothers with their baby aslept are rocking to the gentle beat,
And the rythm of the rails is all they dream.

3. Strophe:
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 to the sea.
But all the towns and people seen to fade into a bad dream.
And the steel rail hasn't heard the news,
The conductor sings his song again, his passengers will please refrain,
This train's got the disapperin' railroad blues;

Liederbuchseite - City of New Orleans
Liederbuchseite - City of New Orleans

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