Down in Louisiana close to New Orleans
Way back in the woods among the evergreens
There in an old cabin made of earth and wood
Lived a country boy named Johnny B Goode
He never ever learned to read or write so well
Play his guitar like a ring in a bell

Carry his guitar in a gunny sack
Sit beneath the trees by the railroad track
The engineers seen him sitting in the shade
Strumming to the rhythm that the drivers made
People passing by would stop and say... ha ha ha