| *Whistling* | |
| 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, | |
| Down and out. | |
| He looked to me to be the very eyes of age | |
| As the smoke ran out, | |
| Talked of life, lord that man talked of life, | |
| Laughed, clicked his heels and stepped. | |
| He said his name was "Bojangles" | |
| And he danced a lick | |
| Right across the cell. | |
| He grabbed his pants, | |
| Took a bitter stance, | |
| Jumped up high. | |
| That's when he | |
| Clicked his heels. | |
| Then he let go a laugh, | |
| Lord, he'd let go a laugh, | |
| Shook back his clothes all around. | |
| Mr. Bojangles. | |
| Mr. Bojangles. | |
| Mr. Bojangles | |
| Dance. | |
| He told me of the times | |
| He worked with minstrel shows, | |
| Through out The South. | |
| He spoke with tears | |
| Of fifteen years | |
| How his dog and he, | |
| They travel all about. | |
| The dog up and died, | |
| Dog up and died, | |
| And after twenty years he still greived. | |
| He said "I dance | |
| Now and every chance a | |
| Honkey-tonk, | |
| For drinks and tips. | |
| But most of the time | |
| I spend behind these country bars, | |
| You see son, I drinks a bit." | |
| He shook his head. | |
| As he shook his head, | |
| I heard someone | |
| Say please, please, please. | |
| A-Mr. Bojangles, | |
| Mr. Bojangles, | |
| Mr. Bojangles, | |
| Dance. | |
| *Whistle* |