| Yeah, deep down in Louisiana
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| Close to New Orleans
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| Way back up in the woods
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| Among the Evergreens
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| Oh, there stood an old cabin
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| Made of earth and wood
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| Where lived a country boy
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| Named Johnny B. Goode
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| Who never ever learned
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| To read or write so well
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| But he can play a guitar
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| Just like ringing a bell
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| Tell em go
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| Yeah, let Johnny go
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| Go, yeah, Johnny, go
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| Go, yeah, Johnny, go
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| Go, yeah, Johnny, go
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| Go, yeah, Johnny B. Goode
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| He used to carry his
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| Guitar in a gunny sack
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| Sit beneath the trees
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| By the railroad track
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| And all the engineers would
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| See him sitting in the shade
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| Strumming with the rhythm
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| That the drivers made
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| And all the people passing by
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| Would stop and say
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| Oh my, but that little
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| Country boy can play
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| Go, go
|
| Yeah, Johnny, go
|
| Go, Johnny, go, yeah
|
| Go, yeah, Johnny, go
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| Go, go, Johnny, go
|
| Go, yeah, Johnny B. Goode
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| Lemme hear you play it
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| Yes, his mother told him
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| Someday you will be a man
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| And you will be the leader
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| Of a big old band
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| And many people come
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| From miles around
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| To hear you play your music
|
| Til the sun go down
|
| Yeah, maybe someday
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| Your name would be in lights
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| Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight
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| Go, yeah, Johnny, go
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| Go, oh, go, Johnny, go
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| Yeah, go, play that thing
|
| Yeah, say it again
|
| Go, go, Johnny, go
|
| Go, yeah, Johnny B. Goode |