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Way down Louisiana close to New Orleans, Way back up in the woods among the evergreens Livin’ in a cottage made of earth and wood, 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 just like ringing a bell. Go, go Go, Johnny go , go Go, Johnny go , go Go, Johnny go , go Go, Johnny 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, strummin’ his guitar in the gentle shade, Playing to the music that the drivers made. People passing by they’d stop and say Oh my that little country boy could play Go, go Go, Johnny go , go Go, Johnny go , go Go, Johnny go , go Go, Johnny go , go Johnny B. Goode His mama told him “someday you will be a man, ”And you will be the leader of a big old band. ”All kinds a people coming from miles around ”To hear ya play ya guitar ‘till the sun go down ”Maybe someday your name will be in lights ”Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight.” Go, go Go, Johnny go , go Go, Johnny go , go Go, Johnny go , go Go, Johnny go , go Johnny B. Goode Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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