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 in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Too much competition, from other places
But not too many horns can make 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
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 honkytonk just 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 aint what they call Rock and Roll

And the Sultans played Creole

And then the man he steps right up to the microphone
And says at last just as the time bell rings
'Thankyou, 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