B.J. The DJ

A story 'bout a pal of mine Who worked down near the Georgia Line He's a D.J. in a little country station Everybody loved him dear 'Cause he played what they liked to hear He built himself up a quite a reputation At record hops he stayed out late And his mom would always wait To see if he had made it home alive She warned against his loss of sleep And driving fast in that old heap And that he had to be at work by five B.J. the D.J. you're living much too fast And if you don't change your ways Don't see how you can last Every morning just past four From the driveway he would roar Overslept and he was late again Then at breakneck speed he'd drive To sign the station on at five He had lots of records he must spin His mom sits by the radio Until his voice told her hello She knew then that he made it there alright Then she'd say a little prayer Keep him safe for he was there And she'd wait up for him again tonight Then one cold and rainy morn All four tires were badly worn But still he screeched off just as fast this time B.J. had a lot of nerve But he completely missed the curve And he signed off down near the Georgia Line Mom sat by the radio The voice she heard she didn't know B.J.'d never been this late before But with the roads so bad and all She'd wait a while before she called And then she heard the knock upon the door B.J. the D.J. only twenty-four A wreck at ninety miles an hour He'll spin the hits no more