Mr. Bojangles

I knew a man, Bojangles and he danced for you

In worn out shoes

Silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants

The old soft shoes

He jumped so high, jumped so high

Then he'd lightly touch down

I met him in a cell in New Orleans

I was down and out

He looked to me to be the eyes of age

As he spoke right out

He talked of life, talked of life

Laughed, clicked his heels and stepped

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles

Mr. Bojangles, dance

He said his name, Bojangles and he danced a lick

Across the cell

He grabbed his pants, a better stance, oh how he jumped up high

He clicked his heels

He let go a laugh, let go a laugh

Shook back his clothes all around

He danced for those in minstrel shows and county fairs

Throughout the south

He spoke with tears of fifteen years, oh how he dog and he

Traveled about

He dog up and died, dogged up and died

After 15 years he still grieves

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles

Mr. Bojangles, dance

He said I dance in every chance in honky tonks

For drinks and tips

But most of the time I spend behind these county bars

He said, I drinks a bit

He shook his head, and as he shook his head

I heard someone ask please

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles

Mr. Bojangles, dance

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles...