P. Williams Born at the edge of winter She was November’s child Under the sign of the Scorpio She was bound to be wild Hold her and love her Still she’s a stranger The red headed lady Just will not be tamed Though you may need her Don’t try to lead her This is the lady they named Scorpio Red Scorpio Red Scorpio Red Wearing a robe that is emerald green She can make a man bow Some say the cat that she carries about Is like her somehow Men will pursue her Wanting to do her Favors and errands But she will have none Laughing at money Riches seem funny Heaven and Hell may just want Scorpio Red Scorpio Red Scorpio Red Was a time she belonged to me Was a time she belonged to me Sunlight’s her right light for loves that she Giving herself to me Her hair falling over my pillow Like a crimson waterfall Making no promise to stay I knew she’d leave me someday I’d wake alone in the morning And that would be all Of Scorpio Red Scorpio Red Scorpio Red