From the revue “The Third Little Show”, 1931
Words and music by Noel Coward
The sheet music:
Accompaniment by James Pitt-Payne:
Lyrics
- In tropical climbs there are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire
To tear their clothes off and perspire
It’s one of the rules that the greatest fools obey
Because the sun is much 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
Refrain:
Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun
The Japanese don’t care to
The Chinese wouldn’t dare to
The Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly
Fom twelve to one
But Englishmen detest a siesta
In the Philippines there are 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
- It’s such a surprise for 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 Topee on a tree
It seems such a shame when the English claim the earth,
That they give rise to such hilarity and mirth.
Refrain:
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 twelve o’clock they foam at the mouth and run,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.
Refrain:
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 till two.
Even caribous lie around and snooze
For there’s nothing else to do.
In Bengal to move at all is seldom ever done,
But mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun