Luyện nghe bài hát City Of New Orleans

Riding on the of New Orleans Illinois Central Monday morning rail
Fisteen cars and fifteen riders
conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey the pulls out of Kankakee
And along past houses farms and fields
Passing trains have no name and freighyards full of old black men
And the graveyards of rusted automobiles

morning America how are ya
Say don't you me I'm your native son
I'm a train they call the of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred when the day is done

Dealing games with an old man on the club car
Many a and no one keeping score
Pass that paper bag holds the bottle
Feel the wheels a rumbling the floor
And the sons of men porters and the sons of engineers
Ride their magic carpet made of steel
Mothers with their babes rocking to that gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all feel
Good America...

Night time on the of New Orleans changing cars in Memphis Tennessee
Half way home and we'll get by morning
the Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea
But all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad
And the steel rails still ain't the news
The sings his song again the passengers will please refrain
This train's got the railroad blues
Good America...