16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought-Six

I plugged 16 shells from a thirty-ought-six

and a Black Crow snuck through

a hole in the sky

so I spent all my buttons on an

old pack mule

and I made me a ladder from

a pawn shop marimba

and I leaned it up against

a dandelion tree

And I filled me a sachel

full of old pig corn

and I beat me a billy

from an old French horn

and I kicked that mule

to the top of the tree

and I blew me a hole

'bout the size of a kickdrum

and I cut me a switch

from a long branch elbow

I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'

Black Crow 16 shells from a thirty-ought-six

whittle you into kindlin'

Black Crow 16 shells from a thirty-ought-six

Well I slept in the holler

of a dry creek bed

and I tore out the buckets

from a red Corvette, tore out the buckets from a red

Corvette

Lionel and Dave and the Butcher made three

you got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinnybone

tree

with the strings of a Washburn

stretched like a clothes line

you know me and that mule scrambled right through the

hole

I'm gonna whittle...

Now I hold him prisoner

in a Washburn jail

that stapped on the back

of my old kick mule

strapped it on the back of my old kick mule

I bang on the strings just

to drive him crazy

I strum it loud just to rattle his cage

strum it loud just to rattle his cage

I'm gonna whittle...