Mr. Bojangles


I knew a man Bojangles and he'd dance for you in worn out shoes
Silver hair and ragged shirt and baggy pants, the old soft shoe
He'd jump so high, he'd jump so high, then he'd lightly touched down

I met him in a cell in New Orleans I was down and out
He looked to me to be the eye of age as he spoke right out
He talked of life, he talked of life, laughed, clicked his heels and said

He said his name Bojangles and he danced a lick across the cell
He grabbed his pants for a better stance, oh he jumped so high and he
clicked up his heels
He let go laugh, he let go laugh, shook back his clothes all around
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangle, Mr. Bojangles, dance.

He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs throughtout the South
He spoke with tears of 15 years of how his dog and him travelled about
The dog up and died, he up and died.
After 20 years he still grieves

He said "I dance now at every chance at honky-tonks for drinks and tips
But most the time I spends behind these county bars, 'cause your see, I drinks a bit"
He shook his head and as he shook his head, I heard someone ask him,

 "Please" -- "Please" ...
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles -- "Dance"