Deep down in Lou'siana close to New Orleans, Way back up in the woods among the evergreens - There stood a lo-og 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 could play the guitar just like a'ringin' a bell!
He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack, Go sit beneath the tree by the railroad track. Ol' the engineers see him sitting in the shade Strummin' with the rhythm that the dri-ivers made. Well, people passing ba-ay they would stop and say: "Oh my! What that little country bo-oy could play!"
His mother told him, "Someday you will be a man And you will be the leader of a big old band! Many people comin' from miles around To hear you play your music when the su-un go down! Maybe someday your name'll be in lights Sayin' "Johnny B. Goo-ude tonight!"