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There's a funny old tale of a stingy man, Who was none too good, though he might have been worse; Who went to church on a Sunday night, And carried along his well-filled purse.

When the sexton came with his begging plate, The church was but dim with the candles' light; The stingy man fumbled all through his purse, And chose a coin by touch, and not sight.

It's an odd thing now that guineas be So like unto pennies in shape and size, "I'll give a penny," the stingy man said; "The poor must not gifts of pennies despise."

The penny fell down with a clatter and ring; And back in his seat leaned the stingy man, "The world is so full of the poor," he thought, "I can't help them all—I give what I can."

Ha, ha! How the sexton smiled to be sure, To see the gold guinea fall into his plate; Ha, ha! How the stingy man's heart was wrung, Perceiving his blunder, but just too late!