Chuck Berry

Chuck Berry

Chuck Berry

Roll over beethoven
I'm gonna write a little letter,
gonna mail it to my local dj.
it's a rockin' rhythm record
i want my jockey to play.
roll over beethoven, i gotta hear it again today.
You know, my temperature's risin'
and the jukebox blows a fuse.
my heart's beatin' rhythm
and my soul keeps on singin' the blues.
roll over beethoven and tell tschaikowsky the news.
I got the rockin' pneumonia,
i need a shot of rhythm and blues.
i think i'm rollin' arthiritis
sittin' down by the rhythm review.
roll over beethoven rockin' in two by two.
Well, if you feel you like it
go get your lover, then reel and rock it.
roll it over and move on up just
a trifle further and reel and rock it,
roll it over,
roll over beethoven rockin' in two by two.
Well, early in the mornin' i'm a-givin' you a warnin'
don't you step on my blue suede shoes.
hey diddle diddle, i am playin' my fiddle,
ain't got nothin' to lose.
roll over beethoven and tell tschaikowsky the news.
You know she wiggles like a glow worm,
dance like a spinnin' top.
she got a crazy partner,
oughta see 'em reel and rock.
long as she got a dime the music will never stop.
Roll over beethoven,
roll over beethoven,
roll over beethoven,
roll over beethoven,
roll over beethoven and dig these rhythm and blues.

Maybellene - Chuck Berry 1955

Maybellene - Chuck Berry 1955


Maybellene
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
oh maybellene, why can't you be true?
you've started back doing the things you used to do.
As i was motivatin' over the hill
i saw maybellene in a coup de ville.
a cadillac a-rollin' on the open road,
nothin' will outrun my v8 ford.
the cadillac doin' 'bout ninety-five,
she's bumper to bumber rollin' side by side.
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
oh maybellene, why can't you be true?
you've started back doing the things you used to do.
Pink in the mirror on top of the hill,
it's just like swallowin' up a medicine pill.
first thing i saw that cadillac grille
doin' a hundred and ten gallopin' over that hill.
offhill curve, a downhill strecth,
me and that cadillac neck by neck.
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
oh maybellene, why can't you be true?
you've started back doing the things you used to do.
The cadillac pulled up ahead of the ford,
the ford got hot and wouldn't do no more.
it then got clody and it started to rain,
i tooted my horn for a passin' lead
the rain water blowin' all under my hood,
i knew that was doin' my motor good.
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
oh maybellene, why can't you be true?
you've started back doing the things you used to do.
The motor cooled down, the heat went down
and that's when i heard that highway sound.
the cadillac a-sittin' like a ton of lead
a hundred and ten a half a mile ahead.
the cadillac lookin' like it's sittin' still
and i caught maybellene at the top of the hill.
Maybellene, why can't you be true?
oh maybellene, why can't you be true?
you've started back doing the things you used to do.

Chuck Berry en Johnny B Goode 1958

Chuck Berry en Johnny B Goode

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
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 engineerswould see him sitting in the shade
strumming with the rhythm that the drivers made
people passing by they would stop and say
oh my 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 old band.
many people coming from miles around
to hear you play your music when the sun go down
maybe someday your name will be in lights
saying 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

En lo profundo de Louisiana, cerca de Nueva Orleans.
En el camino de vuelta, entre los árboles de hoja perenne,
hay una cabaña hecha de tierra y madera,
donde vive un chico de pueblo llamado Johnny B. Good
que nunca en su vida aprendió a leer y a escribir,
pero que podría tocar la guitarra como quien toca una campana.

Venga, Johnny, venga.
Venga, Johnny, venga.
Venga, Johnny, venga.
Venga, Johnny, venga.
Johnny B. Good.

Solía llevar su guitarra en la funda de una escopeta,
o se sentaba bajo un árbol al lado de la vía del tren.
Oh, un maquinista lo podría ver sentado ahí en la sombra,
rasgueando al ritmo que marcaban con sus trenes.
La gente pasaba y paraba para decir:
"Oh, Dios mío, ¿pero éste pequeño chico de pueblo puede tocar?"

Venga, Johnny, venga.
Venga, Johnny, venga.
Venga, Johnny, venga.
Venga, Johnny, venga.
Johnny B. Good.

Su madre le dijo una vez que algún día se haría un hombre.
Y que sería el líder de una gran banda.
Gente viniendo de muchas millas a la redonda
para oirte tocar tu música hasta que el sol se ponga.
Quizá algún día tu nombre se encienda
diciendo "Johnny B. Good ésta noche".

Venga, Johnny, venga.
Venga, Johnny, venga.
Venga, Johnny, venga.
Venga, Johnny, venga.
Johnny B. Good.