Deep down in Louisiana south of New Orleans,
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens...
There stood a log cabin there made of earth and wood,
Where lived a country boy named a 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
Go Johnny Go Go Go
Go Johnny Go Go Go
Go Go Johnny B. Goode
He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
And sit beneath the trees by the railroad track.
The engineers used to see him sitting in the shade,
Playing to the rhythm that the drivers made.
People passing by would stop and say
Oh my that little country boy could playHis mother told him someday he would be a man,
And he would be the leader of a big old band.
Many people coming from miles around
To hear him play his music when the sun goes down
Maybe someday his name would be in lights
It would be saying Johnny B. Goode tonight.
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