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