1 Now some people say a man`s made out of mud,But a poor man`s made out of muscle and blood, Muscle and blood, scin and bones, A mind that`s weak, and a back that`s strong. Chorus: You load sixteen tons and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt. Saint Peter, don`t you call me `cause I can`t go, I owe my soul to the company store. 2 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 hollored, "Well, damn my soul!" (CHO.) 3 Now when you see me comin`, you better step aside, Another man didn`t and another man died; I`ve got a fist of iron and fist of steel, If the right one don`t get you, the left one will. (CHO.) Please!