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]