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Текст (слова) песни: Tom Waits - 16 Shells from a ThirtyOughtSix



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

Chorus

Im 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

Repeat chorus

Now I hold him prisoner

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

Repeat chorus

 

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