Tekster: Kitty Wells. 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