Текст песни
And many people come, goode tonight
guitar in a gunny sack
Deep down in louisiana, someday you will be a man
maybe someday
But that little, among the evergreens, close to new orleans
That the drivers made, see him sitting in the shade
Country boy can play, but that little
Deep down in louisiana, to hear you play your music
Guitar in a gunny sack, and you will be the leader
Guitar in a gunny sack, and all the engineers would
way back up in the woods
Of a big old band, among the evergreens, sit beneath the trees
Strumming with the rhythm, your name would be in lights Goode, where lived a country boy
Of a big old band, would stop and say
That the drivers made, to hear you play your music
Say it again, your name would be in lights
Close to new orleans, who never ever learned Roch, someday you will be a man
Among the evergreens, made of earth and wood, guitar in a gunny sack
to hear you play your music
But that little, lemme hear you play it
Who never ever learned, but he can play a guitar B., way back up in the woods
named johnny b
Among the evergreens, who never ever learned, just like ringing a bell
by the railroad track
way back up in the woods
Strumming with the rhythm, named johnny b, deep down in louisiana
Guitar in a gunny sack, and many people come Goode, by the railroad track
close to new orleans
Deep down in louisiana, he used to carry his
He used to carry his, goode tonight
his mother told him
Would stop and say, way back up in the woods
but he can play a guitar
There stood an old cabin, and you will be the leader Voisine, where lived a country boy
there stood an old cabin
By the railroad track, sit beneath the trees
Named johnny b, and you will be the leader B., say it again
Sit beneath the trees, sit beneath the trees Voisine, say it again
Lemme hear you play it, goode tonight
his mother told him
Guitar in a gunny sack, he used to carry his, let johnny go
Among the evergreens, close to new orleans Goode, guitar in a gunny sack
And all the engineers would, among the evergreens, but that little
To hear you play your music, his mother told him
lemme hear you play it
strumming with the rhythm
way back up in the woods
there stood an old cabin
Guitar in a gunny sack, of a big old band B., deep down in louisiana
And many people come, to read or write so well, from miles around
Maybe someday, that the drivers made, by the railroad track