You step inside but you dont see too many faces
Coming in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Too much competition too many other places
But not too many horns can make that sound
Way on downsouth way on downsouth london town

You check out guitar george he knows all the chords
Mind hes strictly rhythm he doesnt want to make it cry or sing
And an old guitar is all he can afford
When he gets up under the lights to play his thing

And harry doesnt mind if he doesnt make the scene
Hes got a daytime job hes doing alright
He can play honky tonk just like anything
Saving it up for friday night
With the sultans with the sultans of swing

And a crowd of young boys theyre fooling around in the corner
Drunk and dressed in their best brown baggies and their platform soles
They dont give a damn about any trumpet playing band
It aint what they call rock and roll
And the sultans played creole

And then the man he steps right up to the microphone
And says at last just as the time bell rings
thank you goodnight now its time to go home
And he makes it fast with one more thing
we are the sultans of swing