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 Oh, but the horns, they're blowing that sound Way on down south, way on down south London town
You check out guitar, George He knows all the chords Mind it's strictly rhythm He doesn't wanna make it cry or sing Left-handed 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 'n' Roll" And the Sultans, yeah, the Sultans, they 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." Then he makes it fast with one more thing, "We are the Sultans, we are the Sultans of Swing."
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