Other Exercises
Sultans Of Swing 
Medium
by Dire Straits
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You get a shiver in the dark
It's raining in the park, but meantime
of the you stop and you hold everything
A is blowing dixie time
You feel when you hear that music ring
Well now you step but you don't see too faces
Coming in out of the rain to hear the go down
Competition in other places
Ah but the horns, they blowin' that sound
Way on south
Way on down south, London town
out Guitar George, he knows all the chords
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 gets up under the lights to play his thing
And doesn't mind if he doesn't the scene
He's got a daytime job, he's doing alright
He can the honky tonk anything
it up for Friday night
With the Sultans
We're the Sultans of Swing
Then a of boys, they're fooling around in the corner
Drunk and dressed in their best brown and their platform soles
They don't a damn about any trumpet playing band
It ain't what they call and roll
the Sultans
Yeah, the they played creole
Creole
And then the man, he steps up to the microphone
And says at last just as the bell rings
Goodnight, now it's to go home
Then he makes it with one more thing
We are the Sultans
We are the Sultans of
It's raining in the park, but meantime
of the you stop and you hold everything
A is blowing dixie time
You feel when you hear that music ring
Well now you step but you don't see too faces
Coming in out of the rain to hear the go down
Competition in other places
Ah but the horns, they blowin' that sound
Way on south
Way on down south, London town
out Guitar George, he knows all the chords
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 gets up under the lights to play his thing
And doesn't mind if he doesn't the scene
He's got a daytime job, he's doing alright
He can the honky tonk anything
it up for Friday night
With the Sultans
We're the Sultans of Swing
Then a of boys, they're fooling around in the corner
Drunk and dressed in their best brown and their platform soles
They don't a damn about any trumpet playing band
It ain't what they call and roll
the Sultans
Yeah, the they played creole
Creole
And then the man, he steps up to the microphone
And says at last just as the bell rings
Goodnight, now it's to go home
Then he makes it with one more thing
We are the Sultans
We are the Sultans of
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