I heard a terrible thing about you
A secret handed down
From one loose grip to another
Your fate was passed around and around
Give me a Chinese whisper, give me a rumour
Let me mould it, shape it, change it
And pass it on, pass on the baton
‘Til everyone’s holding court
She’s got an ugly reputation
Of a common prostitute
The consequence of childish serenades
That mark and distort as a surgeon’s blade
But cut from cloth entirely manmade
Give me a Chinese whisper, give me a rumour
Let me mould it, shape it, change it
And pass it on, pass on the baton
‘Til everyone’s holding court
He’s happy at the bar with his pint and quips
They listen with piggy ears
He’s telling them how to identify
The silent, the guilty, the ones to stone
With rocks pulled out from flesh and bone
Give me a Chinese whisper, give me a rumour
Let me mould it, shape it, change it
And pass it on, pass on the baton
‘Til everyone’s holding court