City Of New Orleans (gitarrengriffe) Songtext
City of New Orleans
C G C
1. Ridin' on the City of New Orleans
a F C G7
Illinois Central monday mornin' rail.
C G C
15 cars and 15 restless riders
a G C
3 conductors 25 sacks of mail.
a
All along the southbound Odyssey
e
the train pulls out of Kankakee,
G
rolls along past houses, farms and
D
fields.
a
Passing trains that have no name
e
freightyards full of old black men
G F
and the graveyards of rusted
C
automobiles.
F G C
Refr. Good morning, America, how are you?
a F
Say, don't you know me, I'm your native
C G7
son.
C e
I'm the train they call the City of
a D7
New Orleans
F C G
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is
C
done.
2. Dealin' cards with the ol' man in the club car.
Penny a point, and no one?s keepin? score.
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle,
feel the wheels, grumblin''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.
Refr. Good morning, America, how are you? . . .
3. Night time on the city of New Orleans,
changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee.
Half way home and we?ll be there by morning,
through the Mississippi darkness rollin' 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 to disappear in a railroad blues.
Refr. Good night, America, how are you?
Say don't you know me, I'm your native son . . .
C G C
1. Ridin' on the City of New Orleans
a F C G7
Illinois Central monday mornin' rail.
C G C
15 cars and 15 restless riders
a G C
3 conductors 25 sacks of mail.
a
All along the southbound Odyssey
e
the train pulls out of Kankakee,
G
rolls along past houses, farms and
D
fields.
a
Passing trains that have no name
e
freightyards full of old black men
G F
and the graveyards of rusted
C
automobiles.
F G C
Refr. Good morning, America, how are you?
a F
Say, don't you know me, I'm your native
C G7
son.
C e
I'm the train they call the City of
a D7
New Orleans
F C G
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is
C
done.
2. Dealin' cards with the ol' man in the club car.
Penny a point, and no one?s keepin? score.
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle,
feel the wheels, grumblin''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.
Refr. Good morning, America, how are you? . . .
3. Night time on the city of New Orleans,
changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee.
Half way home and we?ll be there by morning,
through the Mississippi darkness rollin' 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 to disappear in a railroad blues.
Refr. Good night, America, how are you?
Say don't you know me, I'm your native son . . .