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

You step inside but you don't see too many faces
Coming out of the rain and hear the jazz go down
Competition from other places
But the horns they're blowing that sound

Way on downsouth, way on downsouth, 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
Just 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 honkytonk 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 d___, about any trumpet, playing band
It ain't what they call Rock and Roll

And the Sultans...
Yeah the Sultans played Creole, Creole...

Then the man, he stepped right up, to the microphone
And said at last, as the time bell rings
Goodnight, now it's time, to go home
And he made it fast, with one more thing...

We are the Sultans...
We are the Sultans of Swing

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