Johnny B. Goode - Chuck Berry

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 a guitar just like a-ringing a bell

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

Oh, the engineer would see him sittin' in the shade

Strummin' with the rhythm that the drivers made

The people passing by, they would stop and say

"Oh my, but that little country boy could play"

Go go

Go Johnny go, go

Go Johnny go, go

Go Johnny go, go

Go Johnny go, go

Johnny B. Goode

His mother told him, "Someday you will be a man

And you will be the leader of a big ol' band

Many people comin' from miles around

To hear you play your music when the sun go down

Maybe someday your name'll be in lights

Sayin' 'Johnny B. Goode tonight!'"

Go go

Go Johnny go

Go go go Johnny go

Go go go Johnny go

Go go go Johnny go

Go

Johnny B. Goode

You Never Can Tell - Chuck Berry

It was a teenage wedding, and the old folks wished them well

You could see that Pierre did truly love the mademoiselle

And now the young monsieur and madame have rung the chapel bell

"C'est la vie," say the old folks, "it goes to show you never can tell"

They furnished off an apartment with a 2-room Roebuck sale

The coolerator was crammed with TV dinners and Ginger ale

But when Pierre found work, the little money comin' worked out well

"C'est la vie," say the old folks, "it goes to show you never can tell"

They had a hi-fi phono, boy, did they let it blast

700 little records, all rock, rhythm and jazz

But when the sun went down, the rapid tempo of the music fell

"C'est la vie," say the old folks, "it goes to show you never can tell"

They bought a souped-up jitney, was a cherry red '53

And drove it down to Orleans to celebrate their anniversary

It was there where Pierre was wedded to the lovely mademoiselle

"C'est la vie," say the old folks, "it goes to show you never can tell"

They had a teenage wedding, and the old folks wished them well

You could see that Pierre did truly love the mademoiselle

And now the young monsieur and madame have rung the chapel bell

"C'est la vie," say the old folks, "it goes to show you never can tell"