Sultans Of Swing - Dire Straits & Eric Clapton

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, you hear the music ring.

You step inside -
but you don’t see too many faces.
Coming in out of the rain
to hear the jazz fall down.
There’s competition in other places.
But not too many horns can make that sound.
Way on downsouth, way on downsouth in
London town.

You check out Guitar George,
he knows all the chords.
Runnin’ strictly rhythm, he doesn’t want
to make it cry or sing…
But then an old guitar is all he can afford,
When he gets 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.
Now he can play the honky tonk like anything…
Saving it up, for Friday night.
With the Sultans… with the Sultans of Swing.

And a crowd of young boys,
go fooling around in the corner.
Dressed in their best formed baggies,
and their platform soles.
They don’t give a damn
about any trumpet playing band.
It ain’t what they call Rock n’ 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”
And he makes it fast with one more thing.