Classic Poem

I lay them before you,
One, two, three silver pieces,
And a copper piece
Dulled with handling.
The first will buy you a cake,
The second a flower,
The third a coloured bead.
The fourth will buy you nothing at all
Since it has a hole in it.
I beg you, therefore,
String it about your neck,
At least it will remind you of my poverty.