[okie]

A man is struck by a bus on a busy street in New York City. He lies dying on the sidewalk as a crowd of spectators gathers around.

"A priest. Somebody get me a priest!" the man gasps. A policeman checks the crowd - no priest, no minister, no man of God of any kind.

"A PRIEST, PLEASE!" the dying man says again.

Then out of the crowd steps a little old Jewish man of at least eighty years of age.

"Mr. Policeman," says the man, "I'm not a priest. I'm not even a Catholic. But for fifty years now I'm living behind St. Elizabeth's Catholic Church on First Avenue, and every night I'm listening to the Catholic litany. So maybe I can be of some comfort to this poor dying man. "

The policeman agreed and brought the octogenarian over to where the dying man lay. He kneels down, leans over the injured and says in a solemn voice, "B-4. I-19. N-38. G-54. O-72. . ."