I was taking compass bearings
For the Ordinance Survey
On an army training camp in 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 blossom billow,
You need only say "I will", oh,
Be my darling Armadillo all the time.

Then I saw him 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 manouevers,
Is the object of your love?
I left him to his singing,
I 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 seem to hear it still, oh
Vive L'amour, Vive L'Armadillo
Be my darling Armadillo all the day.