Tom Waits - 16 Shells From A 30.6

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 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