My ding-a-ling, my ding-a-ling, won't you play with my ding-a-ling.

Back in the class room, open your books, keep up, the teacher don't know how mean she looks.

He never ever learned to read or write so well, but he could play his guitar like he was ringing a bell.

Curiosity provoked me to lay a lot of our country stuff on our predominantly black audience and some of our black audience began whispering "who is that black hillbilly at the Cosmo?"

If your playing basic music, its just rock.

Rock is my child and my grandfather.

The gateway to freedom...was somewhere close to New Orleans where most Africans were sorted through and sold. I had driven through New Orleans on tour and I'd been told my great grandfather had lived way back up in the woods among the evergreens in a log cabin. I revived the era with a song about a coloured boy named Johnny B. Goode. My first thought was to make his life follow as my own had come along, but I thought it would seem biased to white fans to say 'coloured boy' and changed it to 'country boy'.