You get a shiver in the dark, it's raining in the park, but meantimeSouth of the river, you stop and you hold everythingA band is blowing Dixie, double-four timeYou feel alright when you hear that music ring
Well, now you step inside, but you don't see too many facesComing in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Competition in other placesAh, but the horns, they blowing that sound
Way on down southWay on down south, London town
You check out Guitar George, he knows all the chordsMind, he's strictly rhythm, he doesn't want to make it cry or singYes and an old guitar is all he can affordWhen he gets up under the lights to play his thing
And Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make the sceneHe's got a daytime job, he's doing alright
He can play the honky-tonk like anythingSaving it up for Friday night
With the SultansWith 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 solesThey don't give a damn about any trumpet-playing bandIt ain't what they call rock and roll
And the SultansYeah, the Sultans, they played creoleCreole
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 SultansWe are the Sultans of Swing"