Sultans Of Swing

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,
erh 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.
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 doing alright.
He can play the honky tonk like anything,
saving it up 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 and roll. |
And the sultans, yeah the sultans are playing
Creole. Creole babe.

And then the man he steps right up to the microphone
And says at last just as the timebell 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.