text: I 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
  Oh, and I made me a ladder from a pawn shop marimba
  I leaned it up against a dandelion tree
  Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
  Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
  Im 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 about the size of a kick drum
  I cut me a switch from a long branch elbow
  Im 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 clothesline
  Oh, 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, 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 it on the back of my old kick mule
  Bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
  Oh, I strum it aloud to rattle his cage
  I strum it aloud just to rattle his cage
  Strum it aloud just to rattle his cage
  Strum it aloud just to rattle his cage
  Oh, Im 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