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I knew a man, |
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Bojangles and he danced for you |
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In worn out shoes |
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Silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants |
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The old soft shoe |
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He jumped so high, jumped so high |
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Then he'd lightly touch down |
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I met him in a cell in New Orleans, |
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He was down and out |
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He looked to me to be the eyes of age |
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As he spoke right out |
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He talked of life, he talked of life |
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He laughed, slapped his leg and stepped |
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Mr. Bojangles |
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Mr. Bojangles |
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Mr. Bojangles, dance |
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He said his name, |
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Bojangles and he danced a lick |
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Across the cell |
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He grabbed his pants, a better stance |
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And jumped so high, clicked his heels |
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He let go a laugh Let go a laugh |
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Shook back his clothes all around |
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He danced for those in minstrel shows |
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And county fairs |
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Throughout the south |
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He spoke with tears of fifteen years |
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How his dog and he traveled about |
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His dog up and died he up and died |
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After twenty years he still grieves |
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Mr. Bojangles |
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Mr. Bojangles |
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Mr. Bojangles, dance |
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He said I dance now |
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At every chance in honky tonks |
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For drinks and tips |
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But most the time |
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I spend behind these county bars |
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'Cause I drinks a bit |
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He shook his head |
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And as he shook his head |
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I heard someone ask, please |
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Mr. Bojangles |
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Mr. Bojangles |
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Mr. Bojangles |
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Go on and dance |
