“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.”

Introduction

Imagine hopping on a train that winds its way through the heart of America, carrying stories, nostalgia, and a sense of freedom. “City of New Orleans” is exactly that—a musical journey through time and space, beautifully performed by The Highwaymen. This song is more than just a tribute to a famous train; it’s a snapshot of American life, full of everyday moments and reflections on how times change. It’s one of those songs that wraps you in a sense of longing for the past while celebrating the small joys of the present.

Originally written by Steve Goodman and later made famous by Arlo Guthrie, “City of New Orleans” gets a whole new life in The Highwaymen’s version. When legends like Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and Kris Kristofferson come together, magic happens. Their voices blend in a way that feels like four friends sitting around reminiscing, sharing the journey of life together. That’s what makes this rendition so special—it’s not just about the train; it’s about the bond between the singers and the spirit of the American landscape they’re singing about.

The song’s narrative style makes you feel like you’re right there on the train. You can almost see the scenery flash by—the Illinois Central rail line, the fields of corn, the passengers lost in their own thoughts. And then there’s that chorus, both hopeful and bittersweet, reminding us that while the train may be disappearing, the memories it carried are forever etched in our hearts.

What makes “City of New Orleans” even more profound is the sense of inevitable change it evokes. Trains, once the lifeblood of America, have slowly faded into the background, replaced by faster means of transportation. Yet, in this song, The Highwaymen capture the romance and simplicity of train travel, a symbol of a slower, more connected time. Listening to it, you can’t help but reflect on what we’ve gained and lost as we rush through life.

Whether you’re a longtime fan of The Highwaymen or discovering this song for the first time, “City of New Orleans” is bound to strike a chord. It’s the perfect blend of nostalgia, storytelling, and impeccable musicianship. It’s more than just a train ride; it’s a reminder to appreciate the journey.

Video

Lyrics

Ridin’ on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday mornin’ rail
15 cars and 15 restless riders
Three conductors, 25 sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms & fields
Passin’ graves that have no name, freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of rusted automobiles
Good mornin’ 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 500 miles when the day is done
Dealin’ cards with the old men in the club car
Penny a point, ain’t no one keepin’ score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
And feel the wheels grumblin’ neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman porters & the sons of engineers
Ride their fathers’ magic carpet made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep, rockin’ to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel
Good mornin’ 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 500 miles when the day is done
Night time on the City of New Orleans
Changin’ cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Halfway home, we’ll be there by mornin’
Through the Mississippi darkness rollin’ down to the sea
But all the towns & people seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain’t heard the news
The conductor sings his song again
“The passengers will please refrain,
This train has got the disappearin’ railroad blues
Good mornin’ 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 500 miles when the day is done

You Missed

THE CARTER FAMILY RECORDED AMERICA’S FIRST COUNTRY HIT IN A HAT FACTORY WAREHOUSE. MAYBELLE WAS 18 AND EIGHT MONTHS PREGNANT. A.P. Carter had to hoe his brother’s corn patch for two days just to borrow the car. Then he loaded his wife Sara, two small kids, and Ezra’s 18-year-old pregnant wife Maybelle into a borrowed sedan and drove 26 miles of dirt road to Bristol, Tennessee. The car stalled in a swollen river. Sara and Maybelle hiked up their dresses, held the instruments above their heads, and pushed. Sara thought it was pointless. “Ain’t nobody going to pay us fifty dollars to sing a song.” She was wrong. Ralph Peer from Victor Records had set up on the second floor of an empty hat factory. August 1927. Sara nursed the baby between takes. On day two, A.P. stayed behind to fix a flat tire, so Sara and Maybelle recorded “Single Girl, Married Girl” without him. Maybelle played a guitar style she’d invented alone in a cabin on Clinch Mountain — melody on the bass strings, chords brushed above. Every guitar textbook in America now calls it the “Carter scratch.” She was 18 when she figured it out without a teacher or a book. Six songs. $50 each. That session launched country music. But within a few years, Sara fell in love with A.P.’s cousin — and what happened next on a live radio broadcast reaching all of North America is the part that splits people right down the middle. Sara kept singing beside a husband she’d already left so the music wouldn’t die. Maybelle kept playing through a pregnancy that would’ve kept most people home. Was the Carter Family built on love — or on stubbornness that just happened to sound beautiful?