Luyện nghe bài hát City Of New Orleans

Riding on the Of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless
Three Conductors; sacks of mail
All along the southbound - the train pulls out of Kankakee
And rolls past houses, farms, and fields
Passing trains that no name, and freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the automobile

Good morning, America, how are
Say, don't you know me? I'm native son
I'm the train they call the City Of New
I'll be five hundred miles when the day is done

Dealing card games with the old man in the Car
Penny a point - ain't no one score
Pass the paper bag holds the bottle
Feel the rumbling 'neath the floor
And the of Pullman Porters, and the sons of Engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets of steel
And, mothers with their babes asleep rocking to the gentle
And the rhythm of the is all they feel

morning, America, how are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm your son
I'm the they call the City Of New Orleans
I'll be gone hundred miles when the day is done

Night time on the Of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis
home - we'll be there by morning
Through the darkness, rolling down to the sea
But, all the towns and seem to fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain't heard the
The conductor sings his songs - the passengers will please refrain
This train got the railroad blues

night, America, how are you?
Say, don't you know me? I'm native son
I'm the train they the City Of New Orleans
I'll be gone hundred miles when the day is done