Oh foolish king of wealth untold
Why did you take this pestilence
This curse of the touch of gold?
For many are the roses
That will ne'er wilt nor die
They sparkle ‘neath the sun
Reflecting its own eye
Yet accursed, with frozen beauty
Are still, for all of time.
No wonder why your daughter weeps
For their golden tomb immobile!
For ne'er will they smell as sweet
Nor please the golden bee
And in their deathly slumb’r
Hark, listen to our plea!
Forsake the golden statues
That you so idolise
Leave at once your foolish quest
For metal pleasing to your eye.
Not all that glitters in this world is gold
As you may come to see –
But hasten, king of wealth untold
Cleanse this vile pestilence
The curse of the touch of gold!