Steve Goodman/Bobby Bare: "City of New Orleans"

dealing cards with the old men in the club car
penny a point and ain't no one keeping score
pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
feel the wheels rumbling beneath 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 rocking to the gentle beat
and the rhythm of the rails is all they feel
good morning, america, how are you?
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

--steve goodman (from "the city of new orleans ")