He was a rather special sort,
To those who knew him,
And knew him not.
Tingles ran through his finger tips,
A golden chalice,
Held to his lips.

This Midas had a curious touch,
That left him mighty,
Not wanting much.
Golden forms from his fingers dashed,
Enemies transformed,
Into piles of cash.

A merry man, he strut through town
An arms length clear zone,
Did him surround.
When a wondrous girl he saw, so bold
She walked right to him,
No fear of gold.

Such beauty never before had beamed
Eyes lowered down,
Hair bounced and gleamed
When she glided close enough to kiss,
She met his gaze...
he touched her cheek...
and the last thing they heard...
Was a chorused hiss.

So if you should walk down that street,
King Midas and
His love you'll meet.
King turned to stone, with outstretched hand
And with head of yellow snakes
A golden Medusa stands.