The Armadillo

I was taking compass bearings for the Ordnance 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, in 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.'