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LA BAMBA
Para bailar la bamba
Para bailar la bamba
Se necesita una poca de gracia
Una poca de gracia pa(ra) mi pa(ra) ti
Arriba y arriba
Y arriba y arriba, por ti sere
Por ti sere
Por ti sere
Yo no soy marinero
Yo no soy marinero, soy capitan
Soy capitan
Soy capitan
Bamba-bamba
Bamba-bamba
Bamba-bamba
SUMMERTIME BLUES
Im gonna raise a fuss, Im gonna raise a holler
About a workin all summer just to try to earn a dollar
Every time I call my baby, and try to get a date
My boss says, No dice son, you gotta work late
Sometimes I wonder what Im a gonna do
But there aint no cure for the summertime blues
Well my mom and pop told me, Son you gotta make some money,
If you want to use the car to go ridin next Sunday
Well I didnt go to work, told the boss I was sick
Well you cant use the car cause you didnt work a lick
Sometimes I wonder what Im gonna do
But there aint no cure for the summertime blues
JOHNNY B. GOODE
Deep down in 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 a 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
TUTTI FRUTTI
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
Tutti frutti, oh rutti
A wop bop a loo mop a lop bom bom!