Way down Louisiana close to New Orleans,
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens...
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood,
Where lived a country boy name of Johnny B. Goode...
He never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play the guitar like ringing a bell.
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Johnny B. Goode!
He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
And sit beneath the trees by the railroad track.
Oh, the engineers used to see him sitting in the shade,
Strumming to the rhythm that the drivers made.
People passing by they would stop and say
Oh my that little country boy could play
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Johnny B. Goode!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Johnny B. Goode!
When his mama told him when you would be a man,
And you will be the leader of a big old band.
People coming from miles around
To listen to your play to the sun goes down
Maybe someday your name would be in lights
Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight.
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Go! Johnny!
Go! Go! Johnny B. Goode!
