Luyện nghe bài hát The Priest They Called Him

"Fight tuberculosis, folks"
Christmas Eve, an old junkie selling seals
On North Park
The "Priest" they him
"Fight tuberculosis, folks"

hurried by, gray shadows on a distant wall
It was getting late and no money to
He turned into a side and the lake wind hit him like a knife
Cab just ahead under a streetlight

Boy got out with a
Thin kid in prep school
Familiar face, the Priest told
Watching the doorway.

"Reminds me of a long time ago"
The boy, there, with his
Unbuttoned, reaching his pants pocket for the cab fare
The cab drove away and the corner
The boy went a building

"Hmm, yes, maybe," the suitcase was in the doorway
The boy nowhere in
Gone to get the keys, most likely, to move fast
He picked up the suitcase and started for the
Made it, glanced at the case
It didn't like the case the boy had or any boy would have
The Priest couldn't put his finger on what was so old about the
Old and dirty, poor quality and heavy
Better see inside

He turned Lincoln Park
an empty place and opened the case
Two human legs that belonged to a young man
dark skin, shiny black leg hairs
Glittered in the dim
The legs had been into the case
And he had to use his knee on the of the case to shove them out
"Legs, yet," he said and quickly away with the case.
Might a few dollars to score

The sniffed suspiciously
"Kind of a funny about it"
"It's Mexican leather"
"Well, some joker cure it"
The buyer looked at the with cold disfavor
"Not even right sure he it, whatever it is
Three is the I can do and it hurts
But this is Christmas and you're the Priest"
He slipped three bills under the table the Priest's dirty hand
The Priest faded into the street shadows, seedy and
Three cents didn't buy a bag, nothing less than a
Say, remember that old Addie told me not to come back
Unless I paid him the cents I owe him
Yeah, that a fruit for ya, blow your stack about three lousy cents
The was not pleased to see him

"Now, what do you want? I you!"
The laid three bills on the table
The doctor put the money in his and started to scream
"I've had trouble! have been around!
I may my license!"
The just sat there
Eyes, old and heavy years of junk, on the doctor's face
"I write you a prescription"
The doctor open a drawer
And slid an ampule the table
"That's all I have in the office!" The doctor up
"Take it and get out!" he screamed,
The Priest's expression did not

The doctor added in quieter
"After all, I'm a man
And I shouldn't be bothered by like you"
"Is all you have for me? One lousy quarter G?
Couldn't you me a nickel?"
"Get out, get out, I'll the police I tell you"
"All right, doctor, I'm going"

Of course it was cold and far walk to rooming
A shabby street, on the top floor
"These stairs," coughed the
pulling himself up along the bannister
He into the bathroom
Yellow panels, toilet dripping
And got his from under the washbasin
Wrapped in brown paper, back to his
Get drop in the dropper

He up his sleeve
Then he heard a groan from door
Room 18, the Mexican kid lived
The Priest had passed him on the
And saw the kid was
But he never spoke because he didn't any juvenile connections
Bad news in any

The had had enough bad news in his life
He heard the again, a groan he could feel
No mistaking groan and what it meant
"Maybe he had an or something.
In any case, I can't enjoy my medications
With that sound coming the wall"
walls you understand

The Priest put his dropper
hall and knocked on the door of Room 18
"Quien es?"
"It's the Priest, kid, I next door"
He could someone hobbling across the floor

A bolt slid, the boy there in his underwear shorts
Eyes black with pain, he to fall
The Priest helped him to the bed
"What's wrong, son?"
"It's my legs, seor,
And now I am medicine"

The Priest see the cramps
Like knots of wood in the young legs
Dark shiny black leg
"A few years ago I damaged in a bicycle race
It was that the cramps started"
And now he has the leg back
With junk interest

The old Priest there, feeling the boy groan
He inclined his head as if in prayer, went back and got his
"It's a quarter G, kid"
"I do not much, seor"

The boy was sleeping when the left Room 18
He back to his room and sat down on the bed
Then it hit him like silent snow
All the gray junk
He sat there, the immaculate fix
And he was himself a priest
was no need to call one