Mr. bojangles

I knew a man Bojangles and he'd dance for you,
In worn out shoes,
With silver hair, a ragged shirt, and baggy pants
The old soft shoe.
He jumped so high, jumped so high
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 eyes of age as he spoke right out
He talked of life, talked of life, he laughed, clicked his heels
a step

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He said his name "Bojangles" then he danced a lick
across the cell
He grabbed his pants, a better stance, o he jumped so hi, &
he clicked his
heels
He let go a laugh, let go a laugh, shook back his clothes all
around

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He danced for those at minstrel shows & county fairs,
throughout the south
He spoke with tears of 15 years how his dog and him traveled
about.
His dog up and died, up and died, after 20 years he still
grieves.

He said I dance now at every chance in honky tonks for drinks
and tips
But most the time I spend behind these county bars cause I
drinks a bit
He shook his head, and as he shook his head I heard someone ask
him please

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