Johnny B. Goode

Deep down in Louisiana, 'cross the New Orleans, Way back up in the woods among the aloe greens,

There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood, Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goodman,

Never ever learned to read or write so well, But he played a guitar like a ringin' a bell.

Go, Johnny, go, go Go, Johnny, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go Go, Johnny, go, go, go

Johnny B. Goode

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack

Go sit beneath the tree by the railroad track

The engineer would see him sittin' in the shade

Smothered with the rhythm that the drivers made

People passin' by, they would stop and say

"Mother, how that little country boy could play"

Go, go!

Go, Johnny, go, go!

Go, Johnny, go, go!

Go, Johnny, go, go!

Go, Johnny, go, go, go!

Johnny be good

Go, boy

My howlin' way

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 when the sun goes

down Maybe someday your name will be in light

Saying Johnny B. Goat tonight Goat, Goat, Goat, Goat Johnny Goat, Goat, Goat

Go Johnny, go, go Go Johnny, go, go

Go Johnny, go, go, go Go, go Johnny B. Go