Mad Dogs and Englishmen

Behind country restaurants,

in front of town bars,

on sun-cracked flags,

café-cultured customers

drink too fast, too much.

The heat, the sun

give a man a thirst

to let others see him

at his red-skinned worst.

Local people - with local ways -

are asleep behind blinds

shaded by shutters;

dream long, dream sweet:

the cool, the dark,

give a man a rest

and let others see him

at his sleep-saved best.

Under cars and canopies,

in ditches dry of water,

behind skips and bins -

pye-dogs, curs and strays.

The shade, the peace:

give a dog a bone

and let others see him

at the last alone.

Along the high road,

across baked, cracked fields,

crazed Cereberus

runs amok in muck:

the flies, the pain,

"mad dogs and Englishmen":

one and the same,

out in the midday sun.