Something Fr. Raph said reminded me of the poor man to whom Becket gives a blanket in the 1964 film:
Poor man: Thank you.
Becket: You're welcome. It will keep you warm.
Prissy cathedral canon: He'll only sell it for drink.
Becket: Then that will keep him warm.
Compline in the Alley
Oh, let the poor man cling to his bottle
It’s his, isn’t it? It’s his own free choice
The only thing he owns. Not even the space
Behind the dumpsters is reserved for him
Some bigger guy might take it away tonight
And his blankets too, and maybe his shoes
But with his bottle he is a worthy man
And he will drink to his own worthiness
Hard-earned, hard-fought, hard-drunk, ‘til dead
And kissing no one’s feet or hands or *ss