Some people say a man is made out of mud A poor man's made out of mud and muscle and blood Muscle and blood and skin and bones A mind that's weak and a back that's strong You load sixteen tons, 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 mornin' 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 strawboss said,