Oh the Englishman is noted for his sang froid
Which translated means his usual bloody cold
And he loves his pipe and slippers and the missus and the nippers
And he's happy simply growing old
And he never says a word if he can help it
That's why people say he's always full of phlegm
He's quite unmoved by atom bombs and rockets to the sun
He never speaks to strangers for it simply isn't done
But when cricket starts his fury's uncontrolled
The Englishman with his usual blood cold
Oh the Englishman could not be called romantic
His technique is not particularly good
All the French and the Italians chase their women round like stallions
But the Englishman's a suet pud
And the slightest demonstration of affection
He regards as being rather infradig
He says the way the French behave is absolutely nuts
He'd like to try it really but he hasn't got the guts
He's scared to death the neighbours might be told
The Englishman with his usual blood cold
Oh! The Englishman has lot of little foibles
And some of them are really past belief
For he's still of the opinion that the folk in each dominion all regard
him as the big white chief
But in spite of all of his curious delusions
Underneath it all he has a heart of gold
And when the Armageddon comes
And all the world is dust
And men will come to judgement as we know they surely must
He'll be there with his umbrella neatly rolled
The Englishman and his usual blood cold
The Englishman and his usual blood cold
Atchoooooo!
