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 I met him in a cell in New Orleans I was down and out He looked at me to be the eyes of age As he spoke right out He talked of life, he talked of life He laughed, slapped his leg a step Mr. Bojangles Mr. Bojangles Mr. Bojangles He said his name, Bojangles Then 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, he let go a laugh Stood up, 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 and him traveled about His dog up and died, he just up and died After 20 years he still grieved Mr. Bojangles Mr. Bojangles Mr. Bojangles He said, "I dance now At every chance in honky tonks" For drink 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 respectfully ask, "Please... Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles Mr. Bojangles, dance!"