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 blowin' Dixie double four time.
You feel alright when you hear that music ring.

And now you step inside but you don't see too many faces,
Comin' in out of the rain you hear the jazz go down,
Competition in other places.
Oh, but the horns they blowin' 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 wanna 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 doin' alright.
He can play the honky tonk like anything,
Savin' 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 play 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'
And he makes it fast with one more thing,
'We are the Sultans... We are the Sultans of Swing'

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