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 Ah, but the horns, they blowing 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 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 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 and roll And the Sultans Yeah, the Sultans, they played 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"