Альбом Chuck Berry

Every day, every day I have the blues,
Every day, every day I have the blues,
When you see me worried, baby, because it's you I hate to lose.

Nobody loves me, nobody seems to care,
Nobody loves me, nobody seems to care,
Speaking of bad luck and trouble will you know I,ve had my share.

I'm gonna pack my suit-case, move on down the line,
I'm gonna pack my suit-case, moving down the line,
Well, there ain't nobody worryin' and there ain't nobody cryin'.
Seems to me every day, every day I have the blues,
Every day, every day I have the blues...

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Well, I'm driftin' and driftin' like a ship out on the sea
Yes, I'm driftin' and driftin' like a ship out on the sea
Ah, you know I ain't got nobody in this world to care for me

Ah, if my baby would only take me back again
Mm, if my baby would only take me back again
Well, you know I ain't good for nothin', darlin', and I haven't got a friend

Please come back, baby, baby, please come back home
Please come back home, baby, baby, please come back home
I wanna show you just how much I love you, and how it feels to be alone

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(by elmore james)

You said you was hurting, almost lost your mind,
And the man you love, he hurts you all the time.
When things go wrong, go wrong with you, it hurts me, too.

You love him more when you should love him less.
I pick up behind him and take his mess.
When things go wrong, go wrong with you, it hurts me, too.

He love another woman and I love you,
But you love him and stick to him like glue.
When things go wrong, go wrong with you, it hurts me, too.

Now you better leave him; he better put you down.
Oh, I won't stand to see you pushed around.
When things go wrong, go wrong with you, it hurts me, too.

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Way 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 name of Johnny B. Goode...
He never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play the guitar like ringing a bell.

(Chorus)
Go Go
Go Johnny Go
Go Go
Johnny B. Goode

He use to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
And sit beneath the trees by the railroad track.
Oh, the engineers used to see him sitting in the shade,
Playing to the rhythm that the drivers made.
People passing by would stop and say
Oh my that little country boy could play

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His mama told him someday he would be a man,
And he would be the leader of a big old band.
Many people coming from miles around
To hear him play his music when the sun go down
Maybe someday his name would be in lights
Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight.

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