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Deep down in Louisiana, close to New Orleans,
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens,
There stood a log cabin made of earth an' wood,
Where lived a country 2 boy, named, Johnny B. Goode,
Who never, ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play a guitar just like a-ringin' a bell.

Go-go, go, Johnny, go.
Go, go, Johnny, go.
Go, go, Johnny, go.
Go, go, Johnny, go.
Go, Johnny B. Goode.

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack.
Go sit beneath the tree by the railroad track.
Oh, the engineer would see him sittin' in the shade,
Strummin' with the rhythm that the drivers made.
The people passin' by, they would stop an' say,
"Oh, my, but 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.

[Instrumental break.]

His mother told him, "Someday you will be a man,
An' you would be the leader of a big ol' band.
Many people comin' from miles around,
To hear you play your music when the sun go' down.
Maybe someday your name will be in lights.
Sayin', '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, Johnny B. Goode.