"I once wrote a poem about Disc Jockeys. It was published in a little
book of verse called Tin Pan Alley. You can get it for five bob.
Now here's a lttle song about them. To my friends in the business I
would only say if the cap fits.."

I'm a disc jockey, remarkably cocky
With every good reason to be
And I'll say it though maybe I ought'nt
I'm really most frighfully important

Oh the teenagers, though simply outrageous
Believe every word that I say
I get the new records as sonnas they're in
Then pick out the ones that create the most din
And the fools go and buy everything that I spin
I'm the big dee jay, the big dee jay

I'm a disc jockey and aren't people lucky
To have such a fellow as me
I could sell them the simplest arpegio
By plugging it over the radio

Though my fans bore me, they simply adore me
And they hang on each word that I say
They sit there enraptured when I'm on the air
The write in and ask for a lock of my hair
It's part of the cross I'm comitted to bear
I'm the big dee jay, the big dee jay

The publishers greet me with counterfiet glee
They fall at my feet for a favour from me
That's why all my whining and dining is free
I'm the big dee jay, the big dee jay.
