Why do the wrong people travel, travel, travel, When the right people stay back home?

I want a horse and plough, Chickens too, Just one cow, With a wistful moo.

At twelve noon, The natives swoon And no further work is doneBut mad dogs and Englishmen, Go out in the midday sun.

Don't put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Worthington, Don't put your daughter on the stage, The profession is overcrowdedAnd the struggle's pretty toughAnd admitting the fact She's burning to act, That isn't quite enough.

Exercise is the most awful illusion. The secret is a lot of aspiring and marrons glaces.

Passion in a dromedary doesn't go so deep; a camel when it's mating never sobs itself to sleep.

My philosophy is as simple as ever - smoking, drinking, moderate sexual intercourse on a diminishing scale, reading and writing (not arithmetic). I have a selfish absorption in the well-being and achievement of Noel Coward.