Deep down in Louisiana, close to New Orleans,
Way back up in the woods, among the evergreens.
There stand a country cabin, made of tar and wood,
Where lives a country boy named Johnny B. Goode.
He never learned to read or write a book so well.
He could play his guitar just like a-ringing the bell.
Go, go, go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Aah - Johnny B. Goode
He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack.
Sit beneath the trees by the railroad track.
Oh, sitting and a-playing in the shade,
Strumming to the rhythm that the drivers made
People passing by used to stop and say:
"My, but how that country boy could play"
Go, go, go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Aah - Johnny B. Goode
Ooh
Well, his mama told him, "Someday, you will be a man,
And you will be the leader of a big old band.
Many people coming from miles around
To hear you play your music till the sun goes down.
Maybe someday, your name will be in lights
Saying: 'Johnny B. Goode tonight' "
Go, go, go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Johnny B. Goode
Writer(s): CHUCK BERRY
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