| in worn out shoes.
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| With silver hair
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| a ragged shirt and baggy pants
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| the old soft shoe.
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| He jumped so high
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| jumped so high
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| then he lightly touched down.
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| Mister Bojangles
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| Mister Bojangles
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| Mister bojangles come back and dance.
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| I met him in a cell in New Orleans
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| I was down and out.
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| he looked at me to be the very eyes of age
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| as he spoke right out.
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| He talked of life
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| talked of life
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| he laughed slapped his leg a step.
|
| Mister Bojangles
|
| Mister Bojangles
|
| Mister bojangles come back and dance.
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| He said his name
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| Bojangles
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| then he danced a lick across the cell.
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| He grabbed his pants a better stance
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| oh he jumped up high.
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| He clicked his heels.
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| He let go a laugh
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| let go a laugh.
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| Shook back his clothes all around.
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| Mister Bojangles
|
| Mister Bojangles
|
| Mister bojangles come back and dance. |