16 Shells from a 30-Ought-Six
Tom Waits Lyrics


Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴  Line by Line Meaning ↴

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

Overall Meaning

"16 Shells from a 30.6" is a Tom Waits blues rock song that tells a surrealistic story of a hunter pursuing a Black Crow with a thirty-ought-six rifle. The song is highly metaphorical, and its lyrics have multiple interpretations. The first stanza describes the singer's preparation for hunting the crow. He has used all his resources to make a ladder, cooked pig corn, and fashioned a whip from an old French horn. The next stanza is about climbing to the top of a tree where he intends to shoot the crow. In the third stanza, he makes a Washburn guitar by using a car as its body, and he uses it to lure and trap the crow. The last part of the song talks about the singer tormenting the crow with the guitar, strumming it loudly to rattle its cage.


The song's meaning is highly debated, but most interpretations talk about social commentary on human's relationship with nature, power dynamics, and redemption. The Black Crow can be seen as a metaphor for nature, which humans try to conquer and control, using their tools and technology. The singer's obsession with the crow and trying to break its spirit reflects the human desire for power and dominance over other beings. However, in the end, the singer's actions do not bring him satisfaction, and he continues to torment the crow to feel alive. Many suggest that the song might also symbolize a deep psychological struggle of the human consciousness.


Line by Line Meaning

Plugged sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
I fired sixteen rounds of ammunition from a thirty-ought-six rifle


And the Black Crow snuck through a hole in the sky
The Black Crow flew away quickly and quietly


So I spent all my buttons on an old pack mule
I used all my money on purchasing an old pack mule


And I made me a ladder from a pawnshop marimba
I improvised and made a ladder using a marimba instrument that I bought from a pawnshop


And I leaned up against a dandelion tree
I rested my back against a dandelion tree


I'm gonna cook them feathers on a tiny spit
I plan to roast the bird's feathers on a small fire


And I filled me a sachel full of old pig corn
I took a sack and filled it with old corn meant for pigs


And I beat me a billy from an old French horn
I made a club using an old French horn


And I kicked that mule to the top of the tree
I kicked the mule and made it climb to the top of the tree


Blew me a hole 'bout the size of a kickdrum
I created a hole about the size of a kick drum


And I cut me a switch from a long branch elbow
I cut a switch from a long and curved tree branch


I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
I am going to break you down into small pieces of kindling


Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
I shot at the black crow using sixteen rounds of ammunition from my thirty-ought-six rifle


Well, I slept in the holler of a dry creek bed
I slept in the low area of a dry creek bed


And I tore out the buckets from a red Corvette
I removed the seats from a red Corvette car


Lionel and Dave and the Butcher made three
Three people including Lionel, Dave, and the Butcher were involved


Well, you got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinnybone tree
We need to meet at the joint parts of the skinny and bony tree branches


With the strings of a Washburn stretched like a clothesline
The Washburn guitar strings are stretched tightly like a clothesline


Oh, you know me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
Me and the mule quickly crawled through the hole


Now I hold him prisoner in a Washburn jail
I have imprisoned the black crow inside a Washburn guitar


That I strapped on the back of my old kick mule
I strapped the guitar, with the black crow, on the back of my old mule


Bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
I bang on the guitar strings with the intention of driving the black crow insane


Oh, I strum it loud to rattle his cage
I strum the guitar strings loudly to agitate the black crow inside


Oh, I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
I am going to break you down into small pieces of kindling


Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
I shot at the black crow using sixteen rounds of ammunition from my thirty-ought-six rifle




Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: THOMAS A. WAITS

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comments from YouTube:

@thehoff1793

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



@tasrog6285

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



@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



@MrSirDrew

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



@RaVenDaWn999

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:

@jaybones8457

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.

@wildbillbegleyjr.3523

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

@JasonsMove

Just heard for first time about a month ago. Incredible! This song is in my soul now. 😎

@Noblesavage77

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

@1953SM

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

@MitchellMaichak-ze7mr

Dylan was " assigned " ( though he publicly refused it ) " THE VOICE OF A GENERATION ". Waits sounds like " The Voice of the Apocalypse " !!!

@andrewparkinson1332

Guitar part is sick...one of Toms best..honestly never gets old

@00IIIIIIIII00

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

@00IIIIIIIII00

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

@ElbertLeeIII

that high pinging sound is tom hitting a boiler with a wrench... they toured with a damned boiler! The guitarist awsome! Marc Ribot...

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