I knew a man, Bojangles, and
He'd dance for you
In worn out shoes, with silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants
He would do 'The old soft shoe'
He could jump so high
Jump so high
And then he'd lightly, touch down
I met him in a cell in New Orleans I was
While I was down and out
He looked to me to be the very eyes of age
As he spoke right out
Talked of life, mmm
Lord he talked of life, whaha
Laughed, slapped his leg and stepped
He said his name was "Bojangles"
And he danced a lick right across the cell
He grabbed his pants, took a better stance, jumped up high
That's when he clicked his heels
Then he let go a laugh
Lord he let go a laugh, shook back his clothes all aroud
That was Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles
Lord, he could dance
He told me of the times he worked in Minstrel shows, travelling around the South
He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and he
They just travel all about
But his dog up and died
Dog up and died
And after twenty years he still grieved
He said "I dance now and every chance a Honky-Tonk, for my drinks and tips"
"For my drinks and tips"
But most of the time I spend behind these county bars
"You see son, I drinks a bit"
Then he his head
Lord, when he shis head
I could swear I heard someone say: "Please"
Mr. Bojangles
A Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, "Come back and dance"
Dance
Dance
Please, dance
Come on and dance now
A Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance
Why can't you come back and dance?
Please, Bojangles
Hmmmm, dance
Again Bojangles
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