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Lyrics 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....
