Tom Waits — 16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought Six Big Time

I plugged 16 shells from a thirty-ought-six And the Black Crow snuck through a hole in the sky So I spent all my buttons on an old pack mule Oh, and I made me a ladder from a pawn shop marimba And I leaned it up against a dandelion tree Leaned it up against a dandelion tree Leaned it up against a dandelion tree I'm gonna cook them feathers on a tire iron spit And I filled me a satchel full of old pig corn And I beat me a billy from an old French horn Oh, and I kicked that mule to the top of the tree 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, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six Whittle you into kindlin' Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six Well, I slept in the holler of a dry creek bed And I tore out the bucket from a red Corvette Tore out the bucket from a red Corvette Lionel and Dave and the Butcher made three Oh, you got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinnybone tree With the strings of a Washburn stretched like a clothes line Oh, you know me and that mule scrambled right through the hole Me and that mule scrambled right through the hole I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin' Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six Whittle you into kindlin' Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six Now I hold him prisoner in a Washburn jail That I strapped on the back of my old kick mule Strapped on the back of my old kick mule I bang on the strings just to drive him crazy Oh, I strum it loud to rattle his cage I strum it loud just to rattle his cage Strum it loud just to rattle his cage Strum it loud just to rattle his cage Oh, I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin' Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six Whittle you into kindlin' Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six