You get a shiver in the dark
It's a rainin' in the park, but meantime
South of the river you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowin' Dixie double four time
You feel alright when you hear the music ring...
And now you step inside but you don't see too many faces
Comin' in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Competition in other places...
Oh but the horns they blowin' that sound
Way on down south, way on down south London town
You check out Guitar George, he knows all the chords
But he's strictly rhythm he doesn't wanna make it cry or sing
They've said 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 doin' alright
He can play the honky tonk like anything
Savin' 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 'bout any trumpet playing band
It ain't what they call rock and roll
And the Sultans... yeah the Sultans, they play Creole
Creole baby
Uh huh
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'
And he makes it fast with one more thing
'We are the Sultans... We are the Sultans of Swing'
It's a rainin' in the park, but meantime
South of the river you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowin' Dixie double four time
You feel alright when you hear the music ring...
And now you step inside but you don't see too many faces
Comin' in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Competition in other places...
Oh but the horns they blowin' that sound
Way on down south, way on down south London town
You check out Guitar George, he knows all the chords
But he's strictly rhythm he doesn't wanna make it cry or sing
They've said 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 doin' alright
He can play the honky tonk like anything
Savin' 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 'bout any trumpet playing band
It ain't what they call rock and roll
And the Sultans... yeah the Sultans, they play Creole
Creole baby
Uh huh
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'
And he makes it fast with one more thing
'We are the Sultans... We are the Sultans of Swing'
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