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