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, and slapped his leg a step
Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance
He said his name, Bojangles
And he danced a lick
Across the cell
He grabbed his pants in fettered stance
Oh, how he jumped up high
Then he clicked his heels
He let go a laugh
He let go a laugh
He stood up and 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, dance
He said, "I dance now
At every 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 respectfully ask "Please"
Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance