A crazy man walked down the street;
his eyes you did not want to meet.
For if you did he'd yell at you,
and scream just like a cockatoo.
He had a gun; he waved it madly.
He crooned to it, and called it Bradley.
Was he a vet; what was his race?
The cops ignored him, just in case.
He shot up windows, aimed at birds;
he was a menace, in other words.
No John Wayne would face him down,
and so he terrorized the town.
Until, that is, he shot a bear,
who didn't take it debonair.
The critter pawed him right and left
and gave his head an awful cleft.
So now the crazy man reposes
in a nursing home with roses.
The nurses took his gun away;
twas easier than mowing hay.
When cops their duty shirk so well,
then madmen with their shot and shell
can walk our streets quite unmolested --
knowing they won't be arrested!
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