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Deep down 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 name of Johnny B Goode |
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He never ever learned to read or write so well |
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But he could play the guitar like ringing a bell |
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Go GoGo Johnny GoGo GoJohnny B Goode |
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He use to carry his guitar in a gunny sack |
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And sit beneath the trees by the railroad track |
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Oh the engineers used to see him sitting in the shade |
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Strumming to the rhythm that the drivers made |
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People passing by would stop and say |
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Oh my that little country boy could play |