| Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans
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| Way back up in the woods among the evergreens,
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| There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
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| Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode,
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| Who never ever learned to read or write so well
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| But he could play a guitar just like a ringin' a bell.
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| Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Johnny B. Goode
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| He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack,
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| Oh sit beneath a tree by the railroad track
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| Oh the engineers would see him sittin' in the shade,
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| Strummin' with the rhythm that the drivers made,
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| Oh n' people passin' by they would stop and say
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| 'Oh my but that little country boy could play'
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| Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Johnny B. Goode
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| His mother told him 'some day you will be a man,
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| And you will be the leader of a big ol' band
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| Many people comin' from miles around,
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| To hear you play your music when the sun go down,
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| Maybe some day your name will be in lights sayin'
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| 'Johnny B. Goode' tonight
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| Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Go Johnny Go Go
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| Johnny B. Goode |