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Deep 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 named Johnny B. Goode.
Who never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play the guitar just like a ringing a bell.

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!

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack,
Go sit beneath the tree by the railroad track.
Oh, the engineerswould see him sitting in the shade,
Strumming with the rhythm that the drivers made.
People passing by they used to stop and say,
Oh, my that little 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
Johnny B. Goode!

His mother 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 go dow.
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!

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