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Johnny B. Goode
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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'd play the guitar just like a ringing a bell Go go, 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 engineers would see him sitting in the shade Strumming with the rhythm that the drivers made People passing by they would stop and say Oh my that little country boy


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