Otros Ejercicios
Sultans Of Swing Medium
de Dire Straits
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You get a in the dark
It's raining in the park, but meantime
of the you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowing dixie double four time
You feel alright you hear that 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
Ah but the horns, they blowin' that sound
Way on down south
Way on down south, London town
Check out Guitar George, he knows all the chords
Mind he's strictly rhythm, he doesn't want to make it cry or sing
Yes and an old guitar is all he can afford
When he up under the lights to play his thing
And Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make the scene
He's got a job, he's doing alright
He can play the honky tonk anything
it up for Friday night
With the Sultans
We're the Sultans of Swing
a crowd of young boys, they're fooling in the corner
Drunk and dressed in best and their soles
They don't give a damn about any trumpet playing band
It ain't call rock and roll
Then the Sultans
Yeah, the Sultans they creole
Creole
And the man, he steps 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 with one more thing
We are the Sultans
We are the Sultans of Swing
It's raining in the park, but meantime
of the you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowing dixie double four time
You feel alright you hear that 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
Ah but the horns, they blowin' that sound
Way on down south
Way on down south, London town
Check out Guitar George, he knows all the chords
Mind he's strictly rhythm, he doesn't want to make it cry or sing
Yes and an old guitar is all he can afford
When he up under the lights to play his thing
And Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make the scene
He's got a job, he's doing alright
He can play the honky tonk anything
it up for Friday night
With the Sultans
We're the Sultans of Swing
a crowd of young boys, they're fooling in the corner
Drunk and dressed in best and their soles
They don't give a damn about any trumpet playing band
It ain't call rock and roll
Then the Sultans
Yeah, the Sultans they creole
Creole
And the man, he steps 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 with one more thing
We are the Sultans
We are the Sultans of Swing
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