I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans
The more days we spend here in the Big Easy, the more cultural bits and pieces connected to New Orleans come to our door. Here’s a song called The City of New Orleans (originally written by Steve Goodman, later by Arlo Guthrie, and here) presented by the Highwayman : Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, who came together for the revival of country music in 1985, when ‘this old genre’ was getting less popular.
What’s your interpretation on the train turning metaphorically into the City of New Orleans? Is it that strong music of the train restlessly pushing ahead downward, the south that connects it with the constant music of New Orleans? Or the mixture of people from different classes (sons of porters and engineers) all coming together in one big sweaty box with the booze and cards at hand? How New Orleansian is this song in your opinion?
“Riding on the City of New Orleans,
Illinois Central, monday morning rail,
15 cars and 15 restless riders,
three conductors, twenty-five sacks of mail.”
Riding on the City of New Orleans,
Illinois Central, monday morning rail,
15 cars and 15 restless riders,
three conductors, twenty-five sacks of mail.
All along the southbound Odyssey
the train pulls out of Kankakee,
and rolls along past houses, farms and fields,
passing trains that have no name
freight yards full of old black men
and the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.
Good morning America, how are ya?
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 5 hundred miles when the day is done.
Dealin’ cards to the old men in the club car,
penny a point ain’t no one keepin’ score,
pass the paper bag that holds the bottle,
you can feel the wheels rumblin’ neath the floor.
The sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers
ride their fathers’ 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.
Good morning America, how are ya?
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 5 hundred miles when the day is done.
Night-time on the City of New Orleans
changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee
halfway home, 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
the steel rails still ain’t heard the news
the conductor sings his songs again:
passengers will please refrain,
this train’s got the disappearin’ railroad blues.
Good night America, how are ya?
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 5 hundred miles when the day is done.
And another rendition by Johnny Cash (in 1992, Israel)