Tom: C
Introdução:
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I knew a man Bojangles and he' d dance for you, in worn-out shoes.
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With silver hair a ragged shirt and baggy pants, he did the old soft shoe.
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He jumped so high, jumped so high, then he' d lightly touch down.
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Mister Bojangles, Mister Bojangles, Mister Bojangles, dance.
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I met him in a cell in New Orleans, I was down and out.
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He looked to me to be the eyes of age as he spoke right out.
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He talked of life, talked of life, he laughed, slapped his leg a step.
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He said his name, Bojangles, then he danced a lick, across the cell.
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He grabbed his pants for better stance, oh he jumped up high. He clicked his heels,
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he let go a laugh, let go a laugh, shook back his clothes all around.
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Mister Bojangles, Mister Bojangles, Mister Bojangles, dance.
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He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs throughout the south.
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He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and he traveled about.
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His dog up and died, up and died,
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After twenty years he still grieved.
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He said, "I dance now at every chance in honky tonks for drinks and tips.
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But most of the time I spend behind these county bars". He said, "I drinks a bit."
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He shook his head and he shook his head,
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I heard someone ask him please,
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Mister Bojangles, Mister Bojangles, Mister Bojangles, dance.
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Mister Bojangles, Mister Bojangles, Mister Bojangles, dance.