Luyện nghe bài hát The Priest They Called Him

"Fight tuberculosis, folks"
Christmas Eve, an old junkie Christmas seals
On Park Street
The "Priest" called 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 street and the lake wind hit him like a
Cab stop just under a streetlight

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

"Reminds me of something a time ago"
The boy, there, his overcoat
Unbuttoned, reaching into his pants for the cab fare
The cab drove away and turned the
The boy went inside a

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

He turned into Lincoln
Found an 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 on the back of the case to shove them out
"Legs, yet," he said and walked away with the case.
Might bring a few dollars to

The buyer sniffed
"Kind of a funny smell it"
"It's Mexican leather"
"Well, some joker cure it"
The buyer looked at the case with cold
"Not right sure he killed it, whatever it is
Three is the best I can do and it
But since this is Christmas and the Priest"
He slipped three bills under the table the Priest's dirty hand
The Priest into the street shadows, seedy and furtive
Three cents didn't buy a bag, nothing than a nickel
Say, remember that old croaker 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 doctor was not to see him

"Now, what do you I told you!"
The Priest laid three 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 Priest sat there
Eyes, old and heavy with of junk, on the doctor's face
"I can't you a prescription"
The doctor open a drawer
And slid an ampule the table
"That's all I have in the office!" The stood up
"Take it and get out!" he screamed,
The Priest's expression did not

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

Of course it was cold and far to rooming house
A shabby street, room on the top
"These stairs," the Priest
pulling himself up along the bannister
He went the bathroom
wall panels, toilet dripping
And got his works from the washbasin
Wrapped in brown paper, back to his
Get every in the dropper

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

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

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

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

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

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

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