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 name of Johnny B. Goode...
He never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play the guitar like a'ringing a bell.

Go, Go,
Go Johnny, Go
Go, Go.
Johnny B. Goode.

He use 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,
Strummin' to the rhythm that the drivers made.
People passing by would stop and say
Oh my that little country boy could play

Go, Go,
Go Johnny, Go
Go, Go.
Johnny B. Goode.

His mother told him someday you would be a man,
And you would be the leader of a big old band.
Many people coming from miles around
To hear you play his music when the sun go down
Maybe someday your name would be in lights
Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight.

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