Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans,
Way back in the woods among the evergreens
There in an old cabin made of earth and wood
There lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode.
He never learned to read or write so well,
But he could play a guitar like ringin` 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 up in the trees by the railroad track.
The engineers seen him sittin` in the shade
Strummin` to the rhythm that the drivers made.
People passin` by would stop and say
"My my, but that little country boy can play!"
His mamma told him "Someday you will be a man."
You will be the leader of a big old band
Many people comin` from miles around
To hear you play your music when the sun goes down.
Maybe someday your name will be in lights.