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the armadillo - flanders & swann lyrics

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i was taking comp-ss 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.’

- flanders swann lyrics

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