The DJ speaks into the mic
As the phone starts to blink,
A listener calling in their likes.
Phone hangs up with a ‘clink.’
Of course the record now playing
Has a scratch that makes it skip,
Over and over the needle dragging,
Causing the DJ to bite panicked lip.
More than once a cart is mis-cued,
A record shuck has now disappeared,
But still the DJ keeps the mood
Of one that is hysterically absurd.
Only the DJ knows all that is wrong.
Others hear nothing but control,
As shakey hands cue the next song.
Fluid words from tongue does roll.
Oh, the all night DJ’s lament…
What a radio talent must put up with
Just to pay another month of rent,
Get rich overnight, really is a myth!