@migu music@

Deep down in Louisiana, close to New Orleans,

way back up in the woods, among the evergreens.

There stand a country cabin, made of tar and wood,

where lives a country boy named Johnny B. Goode.

He never learned to read or write a book so well.

He could play his guitar just

like a-ringing the bell.

Go, go, go, Johnny, go, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go, go

Go, Johnny, go, go, go

aah - Johnny B. Goode

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack.

Sit beneath the trees by the railroad track.

Oh, sitting and a-playing in the shade,

strumming to the rhythm that the drivers made

People passing by used to stop and say:

"My, but how that 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

aah - Johnny B. Goode

Well, his mama 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 till the sun goes down.

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

aah - Johnny B. Goode