text: 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 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
  Well I cooked them feathers on the iron spit
  And I filled me a satchel 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
  Im 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
  Im 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
  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
  Im 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