Some people say a man is made out of mud

A poor man's made out of muscle and blood

Muscle and blood and skin and bones

A mind that's weak and a back that's strong



Chorus:

You load sixteen tons, and whattaya get?

Another day older and deeper in debt

St. Peter don'cha 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-nine coal

And the store boss said,