BMPH3 TRAIL 1729 Sunday 9th August 2020 15:00

HARE: Sir Mick Mac

START From the entrance to Parc Seny on Rue Charles Lemaire, 1160 Auderghem. Close to Herrmann Debroux metro station and tram 8.

RUN. Mostly park and forest with Walkers /Runners split.
BEER STOP. Yes, there is a beer stop.

CLOTHING. Optional.

Mad Dogs and Hashers.

In tropical climes there are certain times of day
When all the citizens retire
To take their clothes off and perspire
It's one of those rules the greatest fools obey
Because the sun is far too sultry
And one must avoid its ultra-violet ray

But when the tropics come to Brussels,The Hash will always flex its muscles,
'Heat stroke? That's just passion in the sauna,
It can't be that hot, I know; I was born he-are!'

In the tropics, natives grieve when the Hashers leave their huts
Because they're obviously, definitely nuts!

So to ward off dehydration, we had a starting libation, While viewing the park with increasing trepidation,
Not least as Sir M said the trail was laid in the rain,
But he hoped to re-mark it during the run once againMad dogs and Hashers go out in the midday sun
The Japanese don't care toThe Chinese wouldn't dare toHindus and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve 'til one
But on Hash days we detest a siestaThe Hash and the beer to follow is the besta

In the Philippines they have lovely screens
To protect you from the glare
In the Malay States there are hats like plates
Which the Hashers won't wear
At twelve noon the natives swoon
And no further work is done
But mad dogs and Hashers go out in the midday sun

Sure enough we were lost as much to our cost,
The rain had watered the trail,
But we milled around, got a bit strung out, Eventually crossed a road or three thereabouts,
And to the forest we went, All expletives and shouts!

It's such a surprise
For the Eastern eyes to see
That though the Hashers are effete
They're quite impervious to heat
When the Hash out runs
Every native hides in glee
Because the locals hope they'll will impale their solar topees on a tree

But locals were those out of luck as the runners broke a trail,
Calling and cursing but managing their travails,
The walkers two, bade the runners adieu and reached the Beer Stop first,
And drank and kept their distance as the local law-cars circled in bursts.

Mad dogs and Hashers go out in the midday sun
The toughest Burmese bandit can never understand it
In Rangoon, the heat of noon
Is just what the natives shun
They put their Scotch or rye down and lie down

Then the pack arrived in dribs and drabs as well, Their tales of running all did tell,
Of forest paths narrow, With the occasional dell. < They will confuse think this with a computer. Ed
The strangest was of a mirage of beer,Too outrageous for me to tell.

In a jungle town where the sun beats down
To the rage of man and beast
The Hashers garb and that of the Hashers sahib
Merely gets a bit more creased
In Bangkok at twelve o'clock
Hashers foam at the mouth for beer and run
Yes mad dogs and Hashers go out in the midday sun
Mad dogs and Hashers go out in the midday sun
The smallest Malay rabbit deplores this foolish habit
In Hong Kong they strike a gong,

And fire off a Noon day gun
To reprimand each inmate who's in late

Till at last we made a leafy glade wherein was a picnic table, Soon laden to creaking with as much beer and food,
As the Hash to transport was able,
The sun beat down, but there was shade around,
It showed that we had won,
For to run is one thing, but drinking is better
Out of the midday sun!

In the mangrove swamps where the python romps
There is peace from twelve to two
Even caribou lie around and snooze
For there's nothing else to do
In Bengal to move at all
Is seldom if ever done
But mad dogs and Hashers go out in the midday sun.

With no apologies to Noel Coward.

On on and on------------Jamie.