Some people say a man is made out of mud
A poor man's made out of muscle and blood
Muscle and blood, skin and bone
A mind that's weak and a back that's strong
You load sixteen tons, and what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
St. Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go,
I owe my soul to the company store
I was born one morning when the sun didn't shine
I picked up my shovel and I walked to the mine
I loaded sixteen tons of number 9 coal
And the straw boss said: «well, a bless my soul»
Well, if you see me comin' better step aside
A lot of men didn't — and a lot of men died
One fist of iron, the other of steel
If the right one don't get you, then the left one will