You get a shiver in the darkIts been raining in the park but meantimeSouth of the river you stop and you hold everythingA band is blowing dixie double four timeYou feel all right when you hear that music ringAnd now you step inside but you don't see too many facesComing in out of the the rain to hear the jazz go downCompetition in other placesBut the horns are blowing that soundWay on downsouth way on downsouth London townYou check out Guitar-George he knows all the chordsMind he's strictly rhythm he doesn't want to make it cry or singAnd an old guitar is all he can affordWhen he gets up under the lights to play his thingAnd Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make the sceneHe's got a daytime job hes doing alrightHe can play the honky-tonk just like anythingSaving it up for Friday nightWith the Sultans with the Sultans of SwingAnd a crowd of young boys they're fooling around in the cornerDrunk and dressed in their best brown baggies and their platform solesThey dont give a damn about any trumpet playing bandIt ain't what they call rock and rollAnd the Sultans played creoleAnd then the man he steps right up to the microphoneAnd says at last this the time the bell ringsthank you goodnight now its time to go homeThen he he makes it fast with one more thingwe are the Sultans of Swing
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You get a shiver in the darkIts been raining in the park but meantimeSouth of the river you stop and you hold everythingA band is blowing dixie double four timeYou feel all right when you hear that music ringAnd now you step inside but you don't see too many facesComing in out of the the rain to hear the jazz go downCompetition in other placesBut the horns are blowing that soundWay on downsouth way on downsouth London townYou check out Guitar-George he knows all the chordsMind he's strictly rhythm he doesn't want to make it cry or singAnd an old guitar is all he can affordWhen he gets up under the lights to play his thingAnd Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make the sceneHe's got a daytime job hes doing alrightHe can play the honky-tonk just like anythingSaving it up for Friday nightWith the Sultans with the Sultans of SwingAnd a crowd of young boys they're fooling around in the cornerDrunk and dressed in their best brown baggies and their platform solesThey dont give a damn about any trumpet playing bandIt ain't what they call rock and rollAnd the Sultans played creoleAnd then the man he steps right up to the microphoneAnd says at last this the time the bell ringsthank you goodnight now its time to go homeThen he he makes it fast with one more thingwe are the Sultans of Swing