Who’s that creeping, down the alley?

What’s that shadow on the ground?

Better call the police inspector

Hannibal Lector’s on his rounds

Well, you’ve heard about Jack the Ripper

And you’ve heard about Son of Sam

And you’ve heard about Doctor Crippen

Well, this cat doesn’t give a damn

So bolt your windows, lock your doors

Check for bodies under floors

Something’s moving quietly

Some faint noise, what can it be?

Maybe it’s the silence

Maybe it’s the silence

Maybe it’s the silence of the lambs

What’s this scene of mutilation

Goodness me, the blood looks fresh

Golly, what a hungry fellow

Hannibal’s eating human flesh

Little lambs, white, cute and fluffy

Lambs a-gamboling through the vale

Who’d have thought they’d be the cause of

Mindless slaughter on such a scale

Bet the guy could eat a horse

If you served it with mint sauce

Crazy killer, never stops

Turns you all into lamb chops

That’s why it’s called the silence

Why it’s called the silence

Why it’s called the silence of the lambs

He’ll eat your uncle and aunty

Washed down with a fine Chianti

But when you think about it

Aren’t we all a bit like Hannibal

Deep down, inside?

He loved Jodie with french fries

No wonder she’s got butterflies

Maybe it’s the silence

With a touch of silence

Can you dig the silence of the lambs?