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