16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought-Six (Waits Tom)

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...