The Greek, the Gypsy, the Italian   And the pole, took a look around   Chewed up the gauntlet, spat it out   Raised them to the ground      Scorpio rising   Scorpio rising   Scorpio rising   Scorpio rising      Four young men, greasy hair   Don't know zip   Leather jackets, big packets   Into it, into it      Knock 'em dead sweetie, then sock four   My body, cha-cha and orf   Four young men on big bad bikes   Ben-hur daddy argent      Give me a flash of white white skin   Above the stocking part   Cool it with the jewels, appreciate   The world finest work of art.      Four young men a-come through hot   The last of the moccasins   Don't sit around with their chi-chi friends   And talk