Mr. Bojangles

I am Bojangles,
the light in the dark.
The ranger himself and the national park
The one happy note on a day full pain
and the slow dripping roof in the north Florida rain.

I am Bojangles,
my dance makes you smile,
an easy distraction at least for a while.
I happily became an outlet for sorrow,
but the feeling you found, you really did borrow.

I am Bojangles,
and a trail oh so thick.
I'm every sound step and the one shaky brick.
I hold your weight and from here and there,
but my tires are balding, worn from wear.

I am Bojangles,
the last man entrenched,
the desert oasis, and the thirst that is quenched.
The giver of life, and of love the thief,
The taker of friends, the giver of grief.

I am Bojangles,
but not anymore,
won't dance for my baby, nor dance for a whore.
A candle so smoothly, will dance at the dark,
A move so bold, a courage so stark.

I was Bojangles,
in a time long ago,
I danced for love and friend and foe.
What I've learned is that you can't let it die,
Tis' better to dance than to sit there and cry.