The Armadillo

I was taking compass bearings for the Ordinance Survey

On an army training camp on Salisbury plain

I had packed up my theodolite, was calling it a day

When I heard a voice that sang a sad refrain:

'Oh, my darling Armadillo

Let me tell you of my love

Listen to my Armadillo roundelay;

Be my fellow on my pillow

Underneath this weeping willow

Be my darling Armadillo all the day.'

I was somewhat disconcerted by this curious affair

For a single Armadillo, you will own

On Salisbury plain, on summer, is comparatively rare

And a pair of them is practically unknown

Drawn by that mellow solo

There I followed on my bike

To discover what these Armadillo

Lovers would be like:

'Oh, my darling Armadillo

How delightful it would be

If for us those silver wedding bells would chime

Let the orange blossoms billow

You need only say 'I will'-oh

Be my darling Armadillo all the time.'

Then I saw them in a hollow, by a yellow muddy bank -

An Armadillo singing ... to an armour-plated tank

Should I tell him, gaunt and rusting, with the willow tree above

This - abandoned on manoeuvres - is the object of your love?

I left him to his singing

Cycled home without a pause

Never tell a man the truth

About the one that he adores

On the breeze that follows sunset

I could hear that sad refrain

Singing willow, willow, willow down the way;

And I seemed to hear it still, Oh

Vive L'amore, vive l'Armadillo

'Be my darling Armadillo all the day

Be my darling Armadillo all the day.'