(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