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!