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Bob Seger
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16 Shells From A 30-6
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 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 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
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Me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black crow 16 shells ftom 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 toud 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 thirty-aught-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
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