Basket Landing: Music

• MP3 short clip, hi-fi play (broadband)
• MP3 short clip, lo-fi play (modem)

Riding on the City of New Orleans,
Illinois Central Monday morning rail,
Got fifteen cars, fifteen restless riders,
Three conductors, twenty-five sacks of mail,
We're all out on the southbound odyssey,
As the train pulls out of Kankekee,
Rolling past the houses, farms and fields,
Passing towns that have no names,
And freight yards full of old black men,
And grave yards with rusted automobiles.

CHORUS:
Singing good morning America, how are you,
Yeah don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans,
And I'll be gone a long, long time when the day is done.

Dealing cards with the old man in the club car,
And it's penny-a-point, there ain't no one keeping score,
Won't you pass the paper bag that holds the bottle,
You can hear the steel rail rumbling through the floor,
And the sounds of Pullman porters,
And the sons of engineers,
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel,
And the mother's with their babes asleep,
Are rocking to the gentle beat,
Rhythm keeps the old train on the rails.

Midnight on the City of New Orleans,
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee,
We're halfway home, we'll be there by morning,
Through the Mississippi darkness rolling to the sea,
And in all the towns the people sing,
Debating to the bad dream,
Old steel rail it ain't heard the news,
Conductor sings his song again,
Passengers will please refrain,
Well this trains got the disappearing railroad blues.