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.

And now you step inside
But you don't see too many faces
Coming out of the rain to hear the jazz go down.

Competition in other places
Ah, but the horns, they're blowin' 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 wanna make it cry or sing.

And it's 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 like anything
Savin' it up for Friday night
With the Sultans, with the Sultan 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.

Uhuh.

(Instrumental).

And then the man he steps right up to the microphone
And says at last just as the time bell rings; "Good night, 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."

(Instrumental, till it fades).