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