Deep down in East London close to Hackney
Way back up on Brick Lane below the railway,
There stood a studio flat made of spit and piss
Where lived a hipster named Johnny B Skid,
Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could skid his back tyre just like a ringin' a bell?
Fixed
very good though still ed
Johnny B. Goode is a wicked tune i might add