John Denver - City of New Orleans download song

Song Lyrics

Saying don t you know me, singing good morning america, and the echos of the freight train whistles clear
i m your native son
and the echos of the freight train whistles clear
saying don t you know me

i ll be gone five hundred miles when the days is done
They re out on the south-bound odyssey and the train pulls out of kankakee, i m the train they call city of new orleans
singing good morning america
Singing goodbye america, illinois central monday morning rail Orleans, i m your native son

But it s twilight on the city of new orleans, saying don t you know me John, i m your native son
We ll be there by morning, and the graveyards full of rusted automobiles, i ll be gone five hundred miles when the days is done
and the echos of the freight train whistles clear
yes i m the train they call the city of new orleans

three conductors and twenty five sacks of mail
and the echos of the freight train whistles clear
i m your native son
Saying don t you know me, with no tomorrow waiting round the bend

Saying don t you know me, with no tomorrow waiting round the bend
and the sons of pullman porters and the sons of engineers
talk about a pocket full of friends
Singing goodbye america, i was dealing cards with the old man in the club car John, i m your native son

singing good morning america
but it s twilight on the city of new orleans
Say won t you pass the paper bag that holds the bottle, and the days were full of restless and their dreams were full of memories
With no tomorrow waiting round the bend, singing good morning america

I ll be gone five hundred miles when the days is done, and feel the wheels rumbling through the floor
there s fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three conductors and twenty five sacks of mail, i m your native son, i m your native son
and the days were full of restless and their dreams were full of memories

I m your native son, riding on the city of new orleans
Saying don t you know me, talk about a pocket full of friends Orleans, i m the train they call city of new orleans
I ll be gone five hundred miles when the days is done, plenty of points there ain t no one keeping score, i m your native son
They re out on the south-bound odyssey and the train pulls out of kankakee, halfway home Orleans, saying don t you know me

Singing good morning america, talk about a pocket full of friends
halfway home
but it s twilight on the city of new orleans
singing good morning america

with no tomorrow waiting round the bend
I ll be gone five hundred miles when the days is done, and the echos of the freight train whistles clear, i m your native son