miércoles, 7 de julio de 2010

Deep down 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 ringing a bell He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sackGo sit beneath the tree by the railroad trackOh, the engineerswould see him sitting in the shadeStrumming with the rhythm that the drivers made People passing by they would stop and say His mother told him "Someday you will be a man,And you will be the leader of a big old band.Many people coming from miles aroundTo hear you play your music when the sun go downMaybe someday your name will be in lightsSaying Johnny B. Goode tonight."

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