C.w. Mccall & Co.

(goebel reeves)

Go to sleep, you weary hobo
Let the towns drift slowly by
Can't you hear the steel rail hummin'?
That's a hobo's lullaby

Do not think about tomorrow
Let tomorrow come and go
Tonight you're in a nice warm boxcar
Safe from the all the wind and snow

I know your clothes are torn and ragged
And your hair is turnin' gray
Lift your head and smile at trouble
You'll find happiness someday

Now, i'll tell ya a tale that'll bust yer heart
That only a few people knew, ta start
It all took place when our concert tour was booked at the seatac hilton?
I'll guarantee ev'ry word's the gospel truth
Got witnesses ta prove it, too,
'cause we all toured with a fella by the name a' milton

Now milton was o-fficial tour director,
Electrical piano-playin' plug connector
An' the slave-drivin'-est travel conductor
That we ever seen in our lives
He'd say "whaddya mean, ya need more rest?
"the world don't care whether ya look yer best!
"simply show up promptly at six a.m. with your instruments ...and your wives!"

[choir; in sorta of "bringing in the sheaves" way]
Shall we gather at the airport?

He'd always arrive in the nick a' time
A good five minutes ahead a' flight time
A-lookin' like he'd been drug through a needle's eye
He'd stand there, stoned and about ta choke
On his egg mcmuffin an' his giant coke
An' then he'd throw all the tickets on the counter and say
"check the bags and let's fly!"
"well, whaddya mean, this is too much weight?
"we only got forty-six pieces a' freight!
"and if it don't go, who's gonna explain it to our fan club in tacoma?"

We'd all get embarassed an' head for the plane
While milton stood there, bein' profane
But somehow he always managed ta get on board ...in sort of a coma

[choir]
When the drinks were served up yonder...

Well, we deplaned at th' other end
All the trouble seemed to commence again
Though milton had ordered three station wagons, a pickup truck and a limo
And though he'd phoned ahead to that number two
Cussin' an' fussin' an' turnin' blue
We'd always end up with two datsoons and a pinto

Now milton took all a' that stuff in stride
Laid on the floor, an' kicked an' cried
But we always looked up to him for hope and salvation
But we'd sink to the bottom a' trav'lers hell
When he'd check us in a remote motel
And he'd grab the clerk by his shirt an' tie an' say
"whaddya mean, ¿no reservaci

(bill fries, chip davis)

How long has it been
Since you got up on the early side a' mornin'?
And saw the sun a-risin'
Bright an' shiny on the eastern side a' day?
And long will it be
'til you listen to the sound of evenin' thunder?
And go runnin' through the raindrops
And stop to smell the flowers on the way

How long has it been
Since you heard the leaves a-rustlin' in november?
And felt the autumn wind
Blowin' soft across a sky of sil'vry gray?
And how long will it be
'til you walk along the riverside together?
And take the time to skip a stone
And stop to watch the ripples fade away

But we're so busy tryin' to make it
Workin' mornin', noon and night
That we never see the sunlight
And anytime we started lookin'
For the little things in life that make it livin'

How long has it been
Since you held your woman in your arms and kissed her?
And told her that you'd love her
'til the day that heaven takes you both away?
And how long will it be
'til you wake up late at night and turn to whisper,
"hon, i promise you tomorrow ain't a-gonna be just another day."

But we're so busy tryin' to make it
Workin' mornin', noon and night
That we never feel the lovelight
And anytime we started hearin'
All them quiet words that come from up above

We're so busy tryin' to fight it
Drivin' hard to beat the stoplight
That we never see the starlight
And anytime we started lookin'
For the little things in life that make it love

Yeah, the little things in life that make it livin'
Are the little things in life that make it love

Well, now, i been hearin' you're concerned about my happiness
But all a' that thought you're a-givin' me is conscience, i guess
If i was walkin' in your shoes i wouldn't worry none
So you and your friends don't worry 'bout me, i'm havin' lots of fun

[chorus]
Countin' flowers on the wall
That don't bother me at all
Playin' solitaire 'til dawn with a deck of fifty-one
Smokin' cigarettes and watchin' captain kangaroo
Now don't tell me i've a-nothin' to do

Last night i dressed in tails pretendin' i was on the town
As long as i can dream it's hard to slow this cowboy down
So please don't give a thought to me i'm really doin' fine
And you can always find me here and havin' quite a time

[chorus]
Countin' flowers on the wall
That don't bother me at all
Playin' solitaire 'til dawn with a deck of fifty-one
Smokin' cigarettes and watchin' captain kangaroo
Now don't tell me i've a-nothin' to do

Well, it's good to see you, i must go, i know i look a fright
Well, any ol' way my eyes are not accustomed to this light
And my boots are not accustomed to this kind a' street
So i must go back to my room and make my day complete

[chorus]
Countin' flowers on the wall
That don't bother me at all
Playin' solitaire 'til dawn with a deck of fifty-one
Smokin' cigarettes and watchin' captain kangaroo
Now don't tell me i've a-nothin' to do
A-don't tell me i've a-nothin' to do

(steve goodman)

Ridin' on the city of new orleans
Illinois central monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Two conductors and a-twenty-five sacks a' mail
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulls out at kankakee
And moves on along past houses, farms and fields
Passin' trains what ain't got no names
Switch yards full a' old black men
And the graveyards full of them rusted automobiles

[chorus]
Good mornin' america, how are ya?
Well, a don'tcha know me? i'm your native son
I'm the train they call the city of new orleans
And i'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

A-dealin' cards with an old man down in the club car
Just a penny a point ain't a-nobody keepin' score
Say won't you pass that there paper bag that's a-wrappin' the bottle
Feel them wheels rumblin' under that floor
And the sons of pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their daddy's magical carpet made out of steel
Mamas with their babies asleepin'
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rockin' rails is all they feel

[chorus]
Good mornin' america, how are ya?
Well, a don'tcha know me? i'm your native son
I'm the train they call the city of new orleans
And i'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Night-time on the city of new orleans
A-changin' cars a-down in memphis, tennessee
Well, a half way home, and a we gonna be there by mornin'
Through the mississippi darkness
Rollin' down to that sea
Now all a' them towns and all the people seem
To fade away into a bad ol' dream
But the steel rail, well he still ain't heard that news
Conductor's a-singin' that song again
Sayin' "passengers will please refrain
"this train done got the disappearin' railroad blues"

[chorus]
Good night america, how are ya?
Well, a don'tcha know me? i'm your native son
I'm the train they call the city of new orleans
And i'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

[fade out.]
Mamas with their babies asleepin'
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rockin' rails is all they feel

Mamas with their babies asleepin'
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rockin' rails is all they feel

Yeah.