"My God, a priest. Somebody get a priest!" the critically injured man gasped. A policeman checked the crowd and yelled out, "Is anyone here a priest?"
Out of the large crowd stepped a little old man of at least 80-years-of-age.
"Mr. Policeman," said the old man, "I'm not a priest or even a preacher. I'm not even a Christian, but for 50-years now, I've been living behind the Catholic Church on First Avenue. Every night I overhear their services. I can recall a lot of it, in fact, most of it. So, maybe I can be of some comfort and assistance to this poor injured man here?"
The policeman agreed and cleared the crowd away so the old man could get through to where the injured man was lying.
The old fellow knelt down beside him, leaned over him, and
said in a solemn voice, "B-4, I-19, N-38, G-54, 0-72"