Scaly monarch with a deadly glance, turns all to stone in a chilling dance. Crowned with feathers, tales surround, the serpent king where legends are found.

In fire I fall, in ash I sleep, yet death itself I do not keep. From cinders cold my wings are spun, what am I, the deathless one?

I promise high returns, but generate no real value. Early investors are paid with money from new ones, until the illusion collapses. What am I?

A golden shroud we seen in myth full of wonder and mystery man hid

As America prepares to celebrate two hundred and fifty years, remember that its only been a hundred and six years that women have the right to do this riddle answer