Luyện nghe bài hát The Priest They Called Him

"Fight tuberculosis, folks"
Christmas Eve, an old junkie selling Christmas
On North Street
The "Priest" called him
"Fight tuberculosis, folks"

People hurried by, gray shadows on a distant
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 ahead a streetlight

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

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

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

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

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

"Now, what do you want? I you!"
The Priest laid three on the table
The put the money in his pocket and started to scream
"I've had trouble! have been around!
I may my license!"
The Priest sat there
Eyes, old and heavy years of junk, on the doctor's face
"I write you a prescription"
The doctor jerked open a
And slid an ampule across the
"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 people you"
"Is that all you have for me? One 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 and far walk to rooming house
A street, room on the top floor
"These stairs," coughed the
There pulling up along the bannister
He went the bathroom
Yellow panels, toilet dripping
And got his from under the washbasin
Wrapped in paper, back to his room
Get every in the dropper

He up his sleeve
he heard 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 spoke because he didn't want any juvenile connections
Bad news in any

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

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

A bolt slid, the boy stood there in his 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 see the cramps
Like knots of wood in the young legs
Dark shiny leg hairs
"A few years ago I myself in a bicycle race
It was then the cramps started"
And now he has the leg cramps
compound junk interest

The old stood 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 Priest left 18
He went back to his and sat down on the bed
Then it hit him heavy silent snow
All the gray yesterdays
He sat there, the immaculate fix
And since he was a priest
There was no need to one