| Way down in Louisiana, close to New Orleans
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| Way back up in the woods among the evergreens
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| Stood an old cabin made of earth and wood
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| Lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
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| Never ever learned to read or write so well
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| Play a guitar like a ringin' a bell
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, yeah Johnny B. Goode
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| He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
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| Sit beneath the tree by the railroad track
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| Sit beneath the tree and play all day
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| Strummin' to the rhythm that the drivers made
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| People passed him by, used to stop and say
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| My, how that little country boy could play
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, yeah Johnny B. Goode
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| Well, his mama told him someday you will be a man
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| You will be the leader of a kick ass band
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| Many people comin' from miles around
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| Hear you play your music when the sun goes down
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| Maybe some day your name will be in lights
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| Johnny B. Goode tonight, I said
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, go Johnny
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| Go go, yeah Johnny B. Goode |