B Jthe D J

BJ THE DJ by Stonewall Jackson

A story 'bout a pal of mine, who worked out near the Georgia line

A D.J. in a little country station

Everybody loved him dear,cause he played what they liked to hear

He built himself up quite a reputation

At record hops he'd stay out late,and his mom would always wait

To see if he would make it home alive

She warned about his loss of sleep,drivin' fast in that old heap

And that he had to be to work by five

BJ the DJ,you're living much to 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

But a break neck speeds he'd drive,to turn the station on at five

He had lots of records he must spin

Mon sat by the radio until his voice told her hello

She knew that he'd made it there alive

Then she'd say a little prayer,he was safe cause 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 he scratched out and 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's never been this late before

But with the roads so bad and all

She'd wait a while before she called

Then she heard the knock upon the door

BJ the DJ,only twenty-four

A wreck at ninety mules an hour

He'd spin the hits no more