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,
Where 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.
He said go, (go Johnny)
Johnny B Goode tonight, yeah,
He 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, oh what the boy can play.
I said oh, (go Johnny)
Johnny B Goode tonight, yeah,
He said oh-oh, (go Johnny)
Johnny B Goode.
(..)
Mama said son, you gotta 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,
He said oh-oh, (go Johnny)
You better B Goode.
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