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Deep down in louisiana close to new orleans, |
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Way back in the woods among the evergreens |
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There in an old cabin made of earth and wood |
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There lived a country boy named johnny b. goode. |
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He never learned to read or write so well, |
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But he could play a guitar like ringin' a bell. |
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Go go, go johnny go, go; go johnny go, go; |
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Go johnny go, go; go johnny go, go; go johnny b. goode. |
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He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack, |
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Go sit up in the trees by the railroad track. |
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The engineers seen him sittin' in the shade |
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Strummin' to the rhythm that the drivers made. |
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People passin' by would stop and say |
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"my my, but that little country boy can play!" |
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His mamma told him "someday you will be a man." |
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You will be the leader of a big old band |
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Many people comin' from miles around |
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To hear you play your music when the sun goes down. |
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Maybe someday your name will be in lights. |