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
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 eyes of age as the smoke ran out.
He talked of life, talked of life, laughed and clicked his heels in step.

He said his name "Bojangles" and he danced a lick across the cell.
He grabbed his pants, in feathered stance, oh he jumped so high, & then he clicked his heels.
He let go a laugh, 'e let go a laugh, shook back his clothes all around.

(CHORUS)
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance...

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.
The dog up and died, he up and died, after 20 years he still grieved.

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 b'cause I drinks a bit.
He shook his head, and as he shook his head, I heard someone ask him please, Pleeaase...

(CHORUS)
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance...