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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 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 |
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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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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 engineer has 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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"Oh, my but that little country boy can 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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Go Johnny B. Goode |
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His mama 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 |
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Saying, 'Johnny B. Goode tonight'" |
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Whoa, 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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Go Johnny B. Goode |
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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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Go Johnny B. Goode |
