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.

In Rangoon The heat of noon Is just what the natives shun, They put their Scotch Or Rye down And lie down.

In Hong Kong They strike a gong And fire off a noonday gun To reprimand Each inmate Who's in late.

It seems such a shame When the English claim The Earth, That they give rise To such hilarity And mirth.