| Gather 'round, cats, and I’ll tell you a story
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| About how to become an All American Boy
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| Buy you a gittar and put it in tune
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| You’ll be rockin' and rollin' soon
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| Impressin' the girls, pickin' hot licks, and all that jazz
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| I-I bought me a gittar a year ago
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| Learned how to play in a day or so
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| And all around town it was well understood
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| That I was knockin' 'em out like Johnny B. Goode
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| Hot licks, showin' off, ah number one
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| Well, I 'd practice all day and up into the night
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| My papa’s hair was turnin' white
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| Cause he didn’t like rock’n’roll
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| He said «You can stay, boy, but that’s gotta go.»
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| He’s a square, he just didn’t dig me at all
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| So I took my gittar, picks and all
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| And bid farewell to my poor ole pa
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| And I split for Memphis where they say all
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| Them swingin' cats are havin' a ball
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| Sessions, hot licks and all, they dig me
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| I was rockin' and boppin' and I’s a gettin' the breaks
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| The girls all said that I had what it takes
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| When up stepped a man with a big cigar
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| He said «come here, cat--I'm gonnna make you a star.»
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| «I'll put you on Bandstand, buy ya a Cadillac, sign here, kid.»
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| I signed my name and became a star
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| Havin' a ball with my gittar
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| Driving a big long Cadillac and fightin' the girls off ma back
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| They just kept a’comin', screamin', yeah-they like it
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| So I’d pick my gittar with a great big grin
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| And the money just kept on pourin' in
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| But then one day my Uncle Sam
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| He said (sound of 3 footsteps) «Here I am»
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| «Uncle Sam needs you, boy
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| I’m-a gonna cut your hair
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| Ah-Take this rifle, kid
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| Gimme that gittar» yeah |