B. J. The D. J.

A story bout a friend of mine who worked down near the Georgia Line
A DJ in a little country station
Everybody loved him dear cause he played what they liked to hear
He built himself 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
BJ the DJ 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
He 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 sat by the radio until his voice called her hello
She knew then that he made it there alright
Then she'd say a little prayer he'd be safe for he was there
And she'd wait up for him again tonight
Then one cold and rainy morn all the tires were badly worn
But still he scratched off just as fast as time
BJ 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
BJ'd never been this late before
But with the road so bad and all she'd wait a while before she called
And then she heard the knock upon the door
BJ the DJ only twenty four a wreck at ninety miles an hour he'll spin the hits no more