B.J. the D.J.

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