Sung to Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry
Deep down in Ballybran, close to JPF,
Way back up in the ranges among the evergreens,
There stood a orange sled made of metal and wood
Where lived a singer boy named Georas B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could draw star maps just like a ringin' a bell.
Go! Go! Go, Georas, go! Go!
Go, Georas, go! Go!
Go, Georas, go! Go!
Go, Georas, go! Go! Georas B. Goode
He used to carry his cutter wishing he had four,
Go sit beneath his sled on the hangar floor.
Old sledtechs would see him sittin' in the shade,
Unpackin' to the rhythm that the crystal drives made.
When people passed him by they would stop and say,
'oh, my but that little singer boy he could prey'
Go! Go! Go, Georas, go! Go!
Go, Georas, go! Go!
Go, Georas, go! Go!
Go, Georas, go! Go! Georas B. Goode
His mother told him, 'someday if you have the will,
You’ll be one of many singers in a big ol' guild.
Many people comin' from galaxies around
Will come to get sick and let the symbiont take ‘em down.
Maybe someday your name'll be on the rank,
Sayin' 'Georas B. Goode he’s alive tonight'
Go! Go! Go, Georas, go! Go!
Go, Georas, go! Go!
Go, Georas, go! Go!
Go, Georas, go! Go! Georas B. Goode
Author: Allashandra