Deep down in Louisiana, close to New Orleans,
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens,
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play the guitar just like a ringin' a bell.

 [bad word] 

Go! Go! Go, Johnny, go! Go!
Go, Johnny, go! Go!
Go, Johnny, go! Go!
Go, Johnny, go! Go! Johnny B. Goode

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack,
Go sit beneath the tree by the railroad track.
Old engineers would see him sittin' in the shade,
 [bad word] #39; with the rhythm that the drivers made.
When people passed him by they would stop and say,
'oh, my but that little country boy could play'

 [bad word] 

His mother told him, 'someday you will be a man,
You will be the leader of a big ol' band.
Many [bad word] #39; from miles around
Will hear you play your music when the sun go down.
Maybe someday your name'll be in lights,
Sayin' 'Johnny B. Goode tonight''