(welch/rostill)



In the corner of the bar there stands a jukebox

With the best of country music, old and new

You can hear your five selections for a quarter

And somebody else's songs when yours are through



I got good kentucky whiskey on the counter

And my friends around to help me ease the pain

'til some button-pushing cowboy plays that love song

And here i am just missing you again



Please, mr., please, don't play b-17

It was our song, it was his song, but it's over

Please, mr., please, if you know what i mean

I don't ever wanna hear that song again



If i had a dime for every time i held you

Though you're far away, you've been so close to me

I could swear i'd be the richest girl in nashville

Maybe even in the state of tennessee



But i guess i'd better get myself together

'cause when you left, you didn't leave too much behind

Just a note that said "i'm sorry" by your picture

And a song that's weighing heavy on my mind



Please, mr., please, don't play b-17

It was our song, it was his song, but it's over

Please, mr., please, if you know what i mean

I don't ever wanna hear that song again


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