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"

People hurried by, gray shadows on a distant
It was late and no money to score
He turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him a knife
Cab stop just ahead under a

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

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

"Hmm, yes, maybe," the was there in the doorway
The boy in sight
Gone to get the keys, most likely, to move fast
He picked up the suitcase and for the corner
Made it, down at the case
It didn't look like the 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 leather and heavy
Better see inside

He turned into Lincoln
Found an empty place and the case
Two human legs that belonged to a young man
With dark skin, shiny black leg
in the dim streetlight
The legs had been into the case
And he had to use his knee on the back of the case to them out
"Legs, yet," he said and walked quickly with the case.
bring a few dollars to score

The buyer sniffed
"Kind of a funny smell it"
"It's just leather"
"Well, some joker cure it"
The buyer looked at the with cold disfavor
"Not even right sure he killed it, it is
is the best I can do and it hurts
But this is Christmas and you're the Priest"
He slipped three bills under the table into the dirty hand
The faded into the street shadows, seedy and furtive
Three cents didn't buy a bag, less than a nickel
Say, remember that old croaker told me not to come back
Unless I paid him the cents I owe him
Yeah, isn't that a fruit for ya, blow your stack about three cents
The doctor was not to see him

"Now, what do you I told you!"
The laid three bills on the table
The doctor put the money in his and started to scream
"I've had trouble! People been around!
I may my license!"
The just sat there
Eyes, old and with years of junk, on the doctor's face
"I write you a prescription"
The doctor open a drawer
And slid an ampule across the
"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 people you"
"Is that all you have for me? One lousy 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 and far walk to rooming house
A shabby street, on the top floor
"These stairs," the Priest
There pulling himself up along the
He went into the
wall panels, toilet dripping
And got his from under the washbasin
in brown paper, back to his room
Get drop in the dropper

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

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

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

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

The Priest could see the
Like knots of there in the young legs
shiny black leg hairs
"A few ago I damaged myself in a bicycle race
It was that the cramps started"
And now he has the leg back
With compound interest

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

The boy was when the Priest left Room 18
He went to his room and sat down on the bed
Then it hit him like heavy silent
All the gray junk
He sat there, the immaculate fix
And since he was a priest
There was no need to one