Tekster: Bob Seger. 16 Shells From A 30-6.

Plugged 16 shells from a 30-6
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 from a pawn shop marimba
And I leaned it up against a dandelion tree
I 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 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, 16 shells from a 30-6
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black crow, 16 shells from a 30-6

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 from a 30-6
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black crow, 16 shells from a 30-6

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 loud 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 30-6
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black crow, 16 shells from a 30-6
30-6, 6