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 the 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 
Uh, 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 
Mind, it’s strictly rhythm, he doesn’t want to make it cry or sing 
They 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 doing alright 
He can play the honky-tonk like anything 
Saving it up for Friday night 
With the Sultans 
With the Sultans of Swing 
 
Then a crowd of young boys, they’re foolin’ 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 playin’ band 
It ain’t what they call rock and roll 
And the Sultans 
Yeah, the Sultans, they play 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 »