Each stanza starts with the same pattern: "Because" something is missing, a strange and inventive response follows. The guitar has no hole, so the bluesman plays it with his teeth. The sawhorse has no head, so the saw does its whinnying for it. The hermit has no wife, so he winds a ticking clock like a companion. The trailer has no cellar, so people dive into a ditch as the tornado roars.
The tone is playful, even funny, but there's a sadder note underneath. The hermit's weekly ritual feels lonely, and the trailer residents are plainly vulnerable. The speaker doesn't judge anyone. He seems to admire how things and people make do, turning a lack into music, movement, company, or survival. The sounds link the stanzas too: the guitar, the whinny, the tick, and finally the tornado's "one blue note," which echoes the blues of the first stanza. The mood is wry, tender, and a little wistful.