Long Sammie Poems
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Mr. Bojangles
Song by
Jerry Jeff Walker
I knew a man Bojangles and he danced for you
In worn out shoes
Silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants
The old soft shoe
He jumped so high
He jumped so high
Then he'd 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
He lightly slapped his leg instead
He said the name bojangles and he danced a lick
Across the cell
He grabbed his pants for a better stance
He jumped so high
He clicked his heels
He let go a laugh
He let go a laugh
Shook back his clothes all around
Mr bojangles
Mr bojangles
Mr bojangles
Dance
We danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs
Throughout the south
We spoke in tears of fifteen years
How his dog and him
They travelled about
His dog up and died
He up and died
After twenty years he still grieves
They said i dance now at every chance and honky tonks
For drinks and tips
But most the time i spend behind these county bars
Cause i drinks a bit
He shook his head and as he shook his head
I heard someone ask please
Mr Bojangles
Mr Bojangles
Mr Bojangles
Dance
I knew a man Bojangles and he danced for you
In worn out shoes
Silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants
The old soft shoe
He jumped so high
He jumped so high
Then he'd lightly touched down
Mr Bojangles
Mr Bojangles
Mr Bojangles
****************************************************
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Additional lines to, Mr. Bojangles
By Sammie Davis Jr.
Young man
I don't know for sure
If drinking, I'll ever quit
And I don't know
If these jail cells
will be my home
And I don't know
If I'll ever cease
grieving for my dog
But this I know
As long as I am alive,
whether I'm here
or whether I'm there,
I'll dance here
I'll dance there
I'll always dance everywhere
The canny hitman wears many faces
His smiling face he calls democracy
Were you to hear him chanting..
You would be forgiven to believe
Freedoms.. rights, democracy..
He utters and funds yet.. SEE
Do you SEE your fallen statesman
Your struggling economy..
Your puppet H.E The president
The Hitman leeching the economy dry
Where will we sell our wares is SHE falls
SHE buys gold, silver linen, and all niceties
Where will we sell our wares ooh hunter
If the hitman becomes the hunted..
If shes smoldering in ashes will they
All weep.. you clothed yourself in finery
Said I am a QUEEN I will weep not...
You held sway ruled with an iron grip
Those stars I see on your turban...
It's rumored you plucked from the skies
Trampled like a rag.. and on your back..
How you love to SOAR.. what kind of being
What kind of BEAST of prey are you.. but
Will we weep when your judgment knocks
With your sin-cup full should we then proclaim
Come out of her my people lest you share..
In her FIERY torment when HER Judgement is read
Did someone say you now lookS like a SHARK...
Did you rise from the waters or do you sit on...
The prophesied, Waters, peoples races nations
The economic hitman offers a friendly handshake
In her labs, she is breeding virulent virus..
Extermination of others is her business parcel
Yet the ignorant mesmerized ignoramus
Claim they rule.. they are all bound in chains
The system, the system, chants the Rasta...
Babylonian systems chant down.. Rasta chants
Mary Jane Joint now lights
Where did we go so wrong
Passing Janja weed Ronny..
I will call you my servant SILA see..
Calling a bird of prey from the east
Zerubbabel YOU will rebuild my temple
Zerubbabel YOU will accomplish..
The divine purpose bestowed in YOU
#Bubble in time
Luis 2020 Feb 28.
I can't believe you are now seven
In a blink of an eye you will then turn 18
And maybe the next morning when I wake up
You will soon outgrow my lap
You're my sweet little girl full of charm
Soon I won't be able to carry you in my arms
So as you grow just a little older from today
I hope you will head your mother's plea
To please know you don't have to be great
That it's okay to keep trying you just
got to have faith
And when the world is trying to tell you what to do
May you keep yourself, pure and true
That when everything seems tiring learn to take a breather
In your family's embrace you always have a shelter
That you have support in everything you choose to do
And our prayers are always with you while you make your dreams come true
And no matter how much you've grown
Know that wherever you are, you're never alone
And though you are free to explore your own
Please know that there's always an open path back home
- End -
To my dear Sammie.
Happy 7th birthday my love
I once saw a man one early misty winter morning. He was crossing at the intersection as I was preparing to make a U turn. Upon seeing him, not in worn out shoes, but completely without any shoes, I felt duty bound; so I gave him the shoes on my feet. This memory came to me as I thought about a song I heard years ago about a Mr. Bojangles who ran a string of bad times and was wearing 'worn out shoes'.
I was deeply moved when I first heard the song nearly 20 years ago, and it has stayed with me since. When I heard it on the radio being performed by Sammie Davis Jr., I fell in love with Mr. Bojangles whose life demonstrated someone down on his luck but still tugging along and doing the best he can with a little confession about 'drinking a bit'. The story also speaks to people with talent and artistic abilities, reminding them that their call, their purpose, their assignment to touch the world, is far bigger than them. Sammie's opening with a whistle was rather soothing.
Whether it's age or addictions, people or circumstances that stepped on one's life to crush them like a roach, we need not stop or give up on ourselves or our gift. If we are blue and sad, Dance! If victimized by manipulation or loss, Dance! If we have come to or toward the end of life and find ourselves feasting on bitter herbs, Dance! We still have a story to tell and one to leave with the coming generation.
The language of life is to love, to laugh, and to Dance, and need never die for any reason. I never learned how to Dance physically, but sometimes when all alone and no one is looking, I Dance. My inner spirit and attitude have learned to Dance. If not as high as Mr. Bojangles, jump as high as you can; can't jump while tapping my heels like Mr. Bojangles, but I can tap the floor.
I suspect that I have Mr. Bojangles to thank and so many others like him who over a span of years have taught me not to cry over spilled milk but to wipe it up and pour another glass. Sammie's closing with a whistle is rather telling and speaks to our approach to life regardless of what it throws at us. Yes, We keep whistling and talking, sharing our lives with whomever will listen, and move on to the next chapter, because it is never over until God says it's over.
071620PSCtest, Same Old Song, Beth Evans. 1P
Although it was written and recorded in 1968,
I think that it was the late 80's when I first heard it.
First, arrested by it; later captured; then embraced.
For more than 30 years, I have loved that song.
It was the way that Sammie sang it; how he danced to it.
I felt Mr. Bojangles's heart and understood his pain.
"I drinks a bit", said he, but managed to 'jump so high'.
Growing up, I knew many a man like Mr. Bojangles.
I remember them, oh so well, and could name them one by one.
But none were closer to my family than Baines, Billy, and Buba.
They were abused and underserved. Their sad lives were never a song.
But when I hear that Bojangles song, I can taste the sweetness of their lives.
They were kind and gentle; worked hard from 6 to 6; too tired to 'jump so high'. Hurting none but themselves, they were skilled, talented, and drank more than a bit. The song takes me back to the 'Bojangles men' I once knew.
They laughed a little, smiled readily, helped others faithfully, drank heavily.
071822PSCtest, One In Five 2. Chosen phrase, #3. Joseph May, Sponsor
*Mr. Bojangles, written and produced by Jerry Jeff Walker
Mr. Bojangles, version by Sammie Davis Jr. 1P
"A Hornswoggling Charmer"
Sweet chet by day, cheats by night, He creeps,
he heats, he strays. My greet, fought in spite cause.
He’s up the dense, watching his prey- a nerd.
Poor thing, better run quick, ‘cause watch, he’ll bounce!
He’ll neatly beg for puss, but don’t be drooled.
‘Cause one minute he’ll stir and dial, then tap!
He’ll quit and kiss - and oh - surprise! A spouse.
He’s wedd. A gift. Retracts his flaws. Wow!
Figure of love bait between my legs, looks up
at me and spurs. The pound pulls my heartstrings.
His big screw eyes like sinner dates - so cute.
Cunning he is, he knows I can’t resist.
Curling up tight, we sleep entwined as one.
Despite his quirks, I would not change a flaw
of him. Sneaky Sammie: my throw-tight lean.
When I was young under that Okie sun
My old man chased a wild Latina one
Name was Bonita — pure fire, pure sin
Burned the house down from the inside in
Mama’s heart broke, cried and she moaned
Loaded us up with Aunt Sammie in Chevy’s chrome
Chased his ass down like a one-woman war
Pistol on the seat, ain’t playin’ no more
Bonita’s shadow still crawls through my veins
Like a curse no prayer can wash away
Heart full of echoes from the dance he did
Father’s sins run deep — a river that never quits
Now I got a thing for crazy Latinas
He lit the match… and passed the torch to me
She’d hide in his truck under that quilt sewn for luck
Mama kicked the door, pistol locked and cocked
“Skank, you’re nothin’ but trouble,” she spat through her teeth
But the trouble already had its claws in deep
Ghost wouldn’t leave, just followed us home
Till the only thing left was sorrow and broken glass bones
Family tore open, blood on the floor
And that woman just smiled and walked out the door
Bonita’s shadow still crawls through my veins
Like a curse no prayer can wash away
Heart full of echoes from the dance he did
Father’s sins run deep — a river that never quits
Now I got a thing for crazy Latinas
He lit the match… and passed the torch to me
Years later I found out under moon or under sun
She had a boy named Cory — and I’m Coy, his twin
Folks down the road would whisper low
“That boy’s your mirror… just ain’t your blood though”
Same eyes, same hunger, same restless blood
Half-brother walking with the same damn lust
Bonita left more than a ghost in the night
She left her poison running through both our lives
Bonita’s shadow still crawls through my veins
Like a curse I was born to never escape
Heart full of echoes from the dance he did
Father’s sins run deep — a river that never quits
I got a thing for crazy Latinas
Bonita left her shadow… burned deep in me