I knew a man, Bojangles and he danced for you
Silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants
Then he'd lightly touch down
I met him in a cell in New Orleans, I was
He looked to me to be the eyes of age
He laughed, clicked his heels and stepped
He said his name, Bojangles and he danced a lick
He grabbed his pants, a better stance
Then he clicked his heels
Pushed back his clothes all around
He danced for those in minstrel shows and county fairs
He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and him
After twenty years he still grieves
He said I dance now at every chance in honky tonks
But most the time I spend behind these county bars
I heard someone ask him please
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