You get a shiver in the dark,
it's raining in the park,
but meantime
South of the river you stop and hold everything
That band is blowing Dixie Double four times
Feel alright when you hear that music ring
Step inside but you don't see too many faces
Coming in and out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Too much competition to many other places
Not too many horns can make that sound
Way on down South,
way on down South London Town
You check Guitar George, he knows all the chords
Mind you, it's strictly rhythm, he
doesn't want to make it cry or sing
And an old guitar is all he can afford
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 Sultans,
and Sultans play Creole I play Creole
And then the man who steps up right to the microphone
And says at last, just as the time bell rings
Thank you, goodnight now, it's time to go home
And he makes it fast with one more thing
We're the Sultans,
we are the Sultans of Swing