Now You Can Call Him By His Name

November 3, 2015

goodman

One of the great songwriters of our time; a member of Songwriters Anonymous. Link to a great half hour discussion ’bout Stevie. Link to where SG’s mind was at when he was writing:  You Never Even Call Me By My Name – he was a darlin’, darlin’.

Steve Goodman : City Of New Orleans (Live 1972)

thanks to Steve and 1000magicians and the Old Grey Whistle Test

Steve’s Song (a little different from how I play it but that’s what it’s all about (baby))

(capo 3)
G D G
Riding on the City of New Or leans,
Em C G
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail,
G D G
Fifteen cars and fi fteen restless riders,
Em D G
Three con ductors, and t wenty five sacks of mail.
Em
All a long the southbound odyssey,
Bm
The train pulls out of Kankakee,
D A
And rolls along the houses, farms and fields.
Em
Passing towns that have no name,
Bm
And freight yards full of old black men,
D G
And graveyards of the rusted automo biles.
Chorus:
C D G
Good morning Am erica, how a re you?
Em C G
     Say don’t you know me, I’m your native son.
D G D Em
I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans,
F C D G
     I’ll be gon e five hundred miles  when the day is done.
Dealing card games with the old men in the club cars,
A penny a point, ain’t no one keeping score.
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle( tequila),
And feel the wheels rumbling ‘neath the floor.
And the sons of Pullman porters,
And the sons of engineers,
Ride their fathers’ magic carpet made of steel.
Mothers with their babes asleep,
Rocking to the gentle beat,
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel (dream).
Chorus.
Nighttime on the City of New Orleans,
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennesee.
Halfway home, and we’ll be there by morning,
Through the Misissippi darkness, rolling down to the sea.
But all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream,
The steel rail still ain’t heard the news.
The conductor sings his songs again,
The passengers will please refrain,
This train’s got the disappearin’ railroad blues.
Chorus:
Goodnight America, how are you?
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 five hundred miles when the day is done
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