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Deep down in Louisiana, close to New Orleans |
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Way back up in the woods among the evergreens |
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There stood an old cabin made of earth and wood |
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Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode |
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Who'd never learned to read or write so well |
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But he could play a guitar just like a-ringin' a bell |
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Go! Go! Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Johnny B. Goode |
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He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack |
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Go sit beneath the tree by the railroad track |
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01' engineer in the train sittin' in the shade |
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Strummin' with the rhythm that the drivers made |
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The people passin' by, they would stop and say |
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Oh, my, but that little country boy could play |
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Go! Go! Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Johnny B. Goode |
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His mother told him |
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"Some day you wil be a man |
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And 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 till the sun goes down |
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Maybe some day your name'll be in lights |
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A-sayin' Johnny B. Goode tonight" |
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Go! Go! Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Go! Johnny! Go! Go! |
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Johnny B. Goode |
