| In tropical climes there are certain times of day
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| When all the citizens retire
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| To tear their clothes off and persprie
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| It’s one of those rules that the greatest fools obey
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| Because the sun is much too sultry
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| And one must avoid its ultra-violet ray
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| Papalaka papalaka papalaka boo
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| Papalaka papalaka papalaka boo
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| Digariga digariga digariga doo
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| Digariga digariga digariga doo
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| The native grieve when the white men leave their huts
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| Because they’re obviously definitely nuts!
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| Mad dogs and Englishmen
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| Go out in the midday sun
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| The Japanese don’t care to
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| The Chinese wouldn’t dare to
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| Hindoos and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one
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| But Englishmen detest a siesta
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| In the Philippines
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| There are lovely screens
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| To protect you from the glare
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| In the Malay States
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| There are hats like plates
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| Which the Britishers won’t wear
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| At twelve noon
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| The natives swoon
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| And no further work is done
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| But mad dogs and Englishmen
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| Go out in the midday sun
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| It’s such a surprise for the Eastern eyes to see
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| That though the English are effete
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| They’re quite impervious to heat
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| When the white man rides every native hides in glee
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| Because the simple creatures hope he
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| Will impale his solar topee on a tree
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| Bolyboly bolyboly bolyboly baa
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| Bolyboly bolyboly bolyboly baa
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| Habaninny habaninny habaninny haa
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| Habaninny habaninny habaninny haa
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| It seems such a shame
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| When the English claim
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| The earth
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| That they give rise to such hilarity and mirth
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| Mad dogs and Englishmen
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| Go out in the midday sun
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| The toughest Burmese bandit
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| Can never understand it
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| In Rangoon the heat of noon
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| Is just what the natives shun
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| They put their Scotch or Rye down
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| And lie down
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| In a jungle town
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| Where the sun beats down
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| To the rage of man and beast
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| The English garb
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| Of the English sahib
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| Merely gets a bit more creased
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| In Bangkok
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| At twelve o’clock
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| They foam at the mouth and run
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| But mad dogs and Englishmen
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| Go out in the midday sun
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| Mad dogs and Englishmen
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| Go out in the midday sun
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| The smallest Malay rabbit
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| Deplores this stupid habit
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| In Hongkong
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| They strike a gong
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| And fire off a noonday gun
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| To reprimand each inmate
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| Who’s in late
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| In the mangrove swamps
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| Where the python romps
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| There is peace from twelve till two
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| Even caribous
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| Lie around and snooze;
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| For there’s nothing else to do
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| In Bengal
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| To move at all
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| Is seldom, if ever done
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| But mad dogs and Englishmen
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| Go out in the midday sun |