Mr. Bojangles

I knew a man Bojangles and he danced for you in worn out shoes

With silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants, the old soft shoe

He jumped so high, he jumped so high, then he lightly touched down

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance!

I met him in a cell in New Orleans, I was - down and out

He looked to be the eyes of age as spoke right out

He talked of life, he talked of life, he laughed, slapped his leg a step

He said his name, Bojangles, then he danced a lick across the cell

He grabbed a chair like Fred Astaire, then he jumped up high, he clicked his

heels

He let go a laugh, he let go a laugh, shook back his clothes all around

He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs throughout the south

He spoke with tears of 15 years how his dog & he traveled about

His dog up and died, up and died, after 20 years he still grieved

He said 'I dance now at ev'ry 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?'