Plugged 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
|
And the black crow flew through
|
A hole in the sky
|
And I spent all my buttons on an old pack mule
|
And I made me a ladder ftom 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
|
|
Well I cooked them feathers on the iron spit
|
And I filled me a sachel full of old pig corn
|
And I beat me a Billy from an old french horn
|
And kicked that mule to the top of the tree
|
Kicked that mule to the top of the tree
|
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-aught-six
|
Whittle you into kindlin'
|
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
|
|
Well I slept in the hotter of a dry creek bed
|
And I tore out the buckets from a red corvette
|
Tore out the buckets from a red corvette
|
Lionel, Dave and the butcher made three
|
|
You got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinny bone tree
|
With the strings of a washburn
|
Stretched like a clothesline
|
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 16 shells ftom a thirty-aught-six
|
Whittle you into kindlin'
|
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
|
|
Now I hold him prisoner in a washburn jail
|
And I strapped it on the back of my old kick mule
|
Strapped it on the back of my old kick mule
|
Bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
|
And I strum it toud just to rattle his cage
|
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
|
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
|
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
|
|
I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
|
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
|
Whittle you into kindlin'
|
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
|
|
-----------------
|
16 Shells From A 30-6
|
| Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band |
