Johnny B Goode

Deep down in Jamaica, close to Mandeville
Back up in the woods, on top of a hill
There stood an old hut made of earth and wood
There lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
He never learned to read and a-write so well
But he could play his guitar like ringing a bell, yell

And said, “Go, go Johnny, Johnny B. Goode tonight,” yeah
And said, “Go, go Johnny, Johnny B. Goode”

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
Sitting in a tree in the railroad track
Old engineer in the train sitting in the shade
Strummin’ with the rhythm that them drivers made

People passing by would stop and say
Oh my, oh my, what the boy can play

I said, “Oh, go Johnny, Johnny B. Goode tonight,” yeah
Said, “Oh oh, go Johnny, Johnny B. Goode”

Mama said: Son, you gotta be a man (go out, be a man)
You gotta be the leader of a reggae band
People coming in from miles around
To hear you play until the sun goes down

Boy, someday, your name will be in the lights
Saying: Johnny, Johnny B. Goode tonight

I said, “Oh, go Johnny, Johnny B. Goode tonight,” yeah
Said, “Oh oh, go Johnny, Johnny you better be good”

I said, “Go, go Johnny, Johnny B. Goode tonight”
Play Johnny, “Go Johnny, Johnny B. Goode”

I said, “Go, go, go, go, go Johnny, Johnny B. Goode tonight”
You can hear him play, go Johnny, better be good