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              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