In tropical climes
There are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire
To take their clothes off and perspire
It's one of those rules
That the greatest fools obey
Because the sun is far too sultry
And one must avoid its ultry
Violet ray
The natives grieve
When the white men leave
Their huts
Because they're obviously
Definitely nuts
Mad Dogs & Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun
The Japanese don't care to
The Chinese wouldn't dare to
Hindus and Argentines
Sleep firmly from twelve to one
But Englishmen
Detest a siesta
In the Philippines
They have lovely screens
To protect you from the glare
In the Malay states
There are hats like plates
Which the Britishers won't wear
At twelve noon the natives swoon
And no further work is done
But mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun
Such a surprise
For the eastern eyes to see
That though the English are effete
They're quite impervious to heat
When the white man rides
Every native hides In glee
Because the simple creatures hope he
Will impale his solar toupee on a tree
It seems such a shame
When the English claim
The Earth that they give rise
To such hilarity and mirth
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo
He, he, he, he, he, he, he, he
Hm, hm, hm, hm, hm, hm
Mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun
The toughest Burmese bandit
Can never understand it
In Rangoon
The heat of noon
Is just what the natives shun
They put their Scotch
Or Rye down and lie down
In a jungle town
Where the sun beats down
To the rage of man and beast
The English garb
Of the English sahib
Merely gets a bit more creased.
In Bangkok at twleve'o'clock
They foam at the mouth and run
But mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun
Mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday sun
The smallest Malay rabbit
Deplores this foolish habit
In Hong Kong
They strike a gong
And fire off a noonday gun
To reprimand
Each inmate
Who's in late
In the mangrove swamps
Where the python romps
There is peace from twelve to two
Even caribous
Lie around and snooze
For there's nothing else to do
In Bengal
To move at all
Is seldom if ever done
But mad dogs and Englishmen
Go out in the midday
Out in the midday
Out in the midday
Out in the midday
Out in the midday
Out in the midday
Out in the midday sun
Writer(s): Noel Coward
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