You get a shiver in the dark, it's raining in the park, but meantime
South of the river, you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowing Dixie, double-four time


You feel alright when you hear that music ring


Well, now you step inside, but you don't see too many faces
Coming in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Competition in other places


Ah, but the horns, they blowing that sound


Way on down south
Way on down south, London town


You check out Guitar George, he knows all the chords
Mind, he's strictly rhythm, he doesn't want to make it cry or sing
Yes and an old guitar is all he can afford
When he gets up under the lights to play his thing


And Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make the scene
He's got a daytime job, he's doing alright
He can play the honky-tonk like anything
Saving it up for Friday night


With the Sultans
With the Sultans of Swing


And a crowd of young boys, they're fooling around in the corner


Drunk and dressed in their best brown baggies and their platform soles
They don't give a damn about any trumpet-playing band
It ain't what they call rock and roll


And the Sultans
Yeah, the Sultans, they played creole
Creole


And then the man, he steps right up to the microphone


And says at last, just as the time bell rings
"Goodnight, now it's time to go home"
Then he makes it fast with one more thing


"We are the Sultans
We are the Sultans of Swing"