Tonart: G major•
Verse 1
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A Story about a friend of mine
Who worked down near the Georgia line
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A DJ in a little country station
Everybody loved him dear
Cause he played what they liked to hear
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He built himself quite a reputation
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
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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B .J., the D .J., you're living much too fast
And if you don't change your ways
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Don't see how you can last
Every morning just past four
From the driveway he would roar
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He overslept and he was late again
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've been
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His mo m sat by the radio
Until his voice told her hello
She knew then that he'd
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made it there all right
Then she'd say a little prayer
He'd be safe for he was there
And she'd wait up for him
Then one cold and rainy morn
All the tires were badly worn
But still he scratched off
B .J. had a lot of nerve,
but he completely missed the curve
And he signed off down near
Mom sat by the radio,
the voice she heard she didn't know
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B .J.'d never been this late before
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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B .J., the D .J., only twenty -four
A wreck at 90 miles an hour,
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he'll spin the pits no more
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