Into L. A. town he came, packin' ferrets
And takin' names.
No one knew where he come from;
He didn't care that  folks would laugh
When he'd draw his ferrets
Like an avenging staff.
 
If truth were told, some folks would know
This angry man
Had a gentle soul.
A soul that  saw things unseen;
A soul that was sometimes mean.
 
He'd heard that ferrets
Were unwelcome here.
"We'll see about that,"
He loudly cried as he gulped and finished .
His very last beer.
[Posted in FML issue 1715]