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16 Shells From a Thirty-Ought-Six
Tom Waits Lyrics


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
And I made me a ladder from a pawnshop marimba
And I leaned up against a dandelion tree
Leaned up against a dandelion tree
Leaned up against a dandelion tree

I'm gonna cook them feathers on a tiny spit
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
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, 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 buckets from a red Corvette
Tore out the buckets from a red Corvette
Lionel and Dave and the Butcher made three
Well, 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

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

Now I hold him prisoner in a Washburn jail
That I strapped on the back of my old kick mule
Strapped him on the back of my old kick mule
Bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
Oh, I strum it loud 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

Oh, 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

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: Thomas A. Waits

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
To comment on specific lyrics, highlight them
Most interesting comments from YouTube:

The Hoff

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 treeAnd I filled me a satchel
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 kick drum
And I cut me a switch
From a long branch elbowI'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-sixWell 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



greenxxghostie

I plugged 16 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
And 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 '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, 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 clothes line
Oh, 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, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six

Now I hold him prisoner in a Washburn jail
That I strapped on the back of my old kick mule
Strapped on the back of my old kick mule
I bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
Oh, I strum it loud to rattle his cage
I strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage

Oh, 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



andrew james Bunting

Lyrics
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
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
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



Tasrog

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

And I made me a ladder from a pawnshop marimba

And I leaned up against a dandelion tree

Leaned up against a dandelion tree

Leaned up against a dandelion treeI'm gonna cook them feathers on a tiny spit

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

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 elbowI'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-sixWell, 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

Well, 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 holeI'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-sixNow I hold him prisoner in a Washburn jail

That I strapped on the back of my old kick mule

Strapped him on the back of my old kick mule

Bang on the strings just to drive him crazy

Oh, I strum it loud 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 cageOh, 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

Read more: Tom Waits - 16 Shells From A 30.06 Lyrics | MetroLyrics



RaVen DaWn

Lotsa chat below to prove we know our A&O... so many men, I respect them, their platoons, real risk, I get to go in alone, my brother, as well, we are specialists and for all that damn gun talk, you all got no idea, what a man can do with just what's around him, yes, whittle you down to toothpicks. I hunt with only a blade. Been used by my Uncle Sam, been deep UC in Death Row too, so what is there left to prove and who really cares, when everyone wants to be admired for this type of shit, I love tom, grew up with him, and y'all get stuck on the guns well, that'd be shameful to miss his point... then again, who says may not know, who knows may not say. They sent me into the hot zones, SE Asia, '03 Indonesia... I could go on. I saw that we have some real experts here about all that. What's good about the Service is you get a huge and heavy duty family; what's good about being alone on Assignment, my task depends on me. I'm not a killer by choice, not a killer by noise, no not a killer at all, despite the tally, I am now a man of peace and I go to get the Accords... by pen or by sword. I never fail. My own will come get me, yet there would not be time. No. I am the only one left of the many I trained with. Hey y'all with the rifle and the facts- I really liked that, learn something more than the songs explore, so I give you something back, and hope is a place you never been and you never go.
Aw shucks, I'm just woods folk, what do I know. 30+ countries, 25 conflicts, and I expect a world of peace. My blade never misses, not a K-Bar, not a Ginzu, just a homemade piece of hard cold death, and I use it for camping. Ya' gotta bury stuff or the Beast comes round. From Secaucus to Cat Bah, ahh what a beautiful world. I have a mean-ass hound, growls and bites, named him Chad, yet he only answers to "attack"... surreal, we write what we know, so that makes us all the same. Every good man or woman had to take that shot, it was all of us... nobody gets a pass. Lock and load, if'n you must. Hah! Rust never does sleep, does it...
"The Devil's Mask"
Land mines in the sunshine,
Jump spry spy, …or just die!
This word, we call it peace,
Yet itself, it is the beast,
So often tested by god and the devil.
They trade appearance and see who will follow.
Yes, god and the devil trade places
And see who will follow.

"Another Shot of Gun Grease"
Four mags empty and to the nearest town I go,
The boys at the checkpoints, they all know
To live another day, look the other way.
I’m coming through.
There’s a bar over by the burning police car,
A place to go do as I please.
Bartender, bartender,
Make it a double.
I’ll have another shot of gun grease.

Hey! You there, in the churches,
Get the fuck UP off your knees!
Time to please the almighty appetite
With a bigger body count.
Wrath and wraith, have thou faith-
Yes, he plays the numbers, checks the dailies…

Your prayers are delivered,
and your agony, he sees.
I’ll have another shot of gun grease.
Gun grease, please; …. gun grease

~s’all against the wall~
….by RaVen DaWn….



All comments from YouTube:

Jay Bones

This is unironically one of the greatest songs ever recorded. Don't have the words to describe what it evokes. Discovered Tom Waits 30 years ago and still listening.

Wild Bill Begley Jr.

How old are You, thirty years ago. Blast that sounds like me I'm 66 now

Brendan Haw

The gravely voice is beyond unique master of song writing

Noble Savage

Music and poetry soaked in gasoline and washed in mud.... damn hypnotic beauty

Jim M.

And he gargles with hydrochloric acid because that's the only way you could get a fantastic voice like that,lololol!

RP SC

Waits is so underrated it's a crime.

Bobobobi Bobobobo

Never met this man, but I love him like a brother.

Bobobobi Bobobobo

We are ALL the same...We are ALL here at the Same time...Time to figure it all out.

Maxim Popov

It's just a gigantic version of the madness that grows in every one of our brains. We are monkeys with money and guns. ~ Tom Waits.

Chip Musick

and drugs.

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