Beitrag
von JackSparrow » Fr 11. Sep 2015, 23:40
(1) 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 or write so well, but he could play his guitar like ringin' a bell yell.
(2) He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack, sit beneath a tree in the railroad track, old engineer in the train sittin' in the shade, strummin' with the rhythm that the drivers made, people passing by would stop and say: Oh my, oh my, what the boy can play!
(3) Mama said: Son, you gotta be a man, you got to be the leader of a reggae band. People comin' in from miles around to hear you play until the sun goes down. Boy, someday your name will be in the lights sayin' Johnny, Johnny B. Goode tonite..