16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought Six Tom Waits

I plugged sixteen 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
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 about the size of a kick drum
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 clothesline
Oh, you know me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
Me and that mule scrambled right through the hole