Stroke

Warning About Sun Stroke

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out m the Noonday Sun— Or so said Mr. Kipling: Those words him fame have won.

The tropic sun no mercy shows for poor mad souls like we; But, for a little savage heat, I’ll gladly pay the fee.

The books all talk of burning sands and near to boiling water, And bodies dropping everywhere— of the heat could slaughter.

Of shrivelled grass and steaming wastes and open, cloudless skies, And rapid declination when a chap just up and dies.

And in the books you’ll also find some talk of mid-day slumber— Relentless heat of high-noon sun will take the Sahib’s number.

Hell roll beneath his ’skeeter net and drowse there, in the shade And won’t get up to sip his gin ’til day is on the fade.

These cloudless skies I’ve yet to see and harsh relentless sun, And noon-tide heats that man can’t bear, and put a stop to fun; constant, sticky, cloudy days ’ that shade the harmful rays A ?w®i av ? a sull , en nagging pain that lasts you all your days.

And you won’t .find the Noonday sun, or see a raving dog— Yo „;’ d , a better ruddy tan. sunbathing in a fog And so you think you won’t go nuts you even think it’s cold— But watch it, brother— Watch it well—it s Hot, and you’ve been told!

The Passing Mosquito.

Rarotonga.