I knew a man Bojangles and he danced for you in worn out shoes

Silver hair, ragged shirt and baggy pants, that old soft shoe

He'd jump so high, he'd jump so high, then he lightly touched down?

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Dance.

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, he talked of life, laughing slapped his leg and stepped

He said his name Bojangles and he danced a lick all across the cell

He grabbed his pants a better stance, oh, he jumped so high and he clicked up his heels

He let go laugh, he let go laugh, shook back his clothes all around

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, dance, yeah, dance.

He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs throughout the south

He spoke with tears of 15 years of how his dog and he travelled about

His dog up and died, he up and died, and after 20 years he still grieves

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, 'cause I drinks a bit"

He shook his head, yes, he shook his head, I heard someone ask him, "Please,

Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles, Dance."