-->Music: Sixteen Tons,
Tennessee Ernie Ford

Some people say we Chicagoans are all nuts
We’re poor men, made outta muscle and guts
Muscle, and guts, and thick skin, and bones
A mind that's weak, and a back that's strong

You shovel about ten inches, and what do you get
Well, another ten inches, and you ain’t done yet
Saint Peter, don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I Gotta Get Out There, and Shovel More Snow!

I was born one mornin' when the snow was a comin down
I picked up a shovel, crawled outside, and looked all around
Then I soon began a shovelin, ten inches of cold wet snow
And my dear old Ma soon shouted "Well, a-bless my soul!"

You shovel about ten inches, and what do you get
Why another ten inches, and you ain’t done yet
Saint Peter, don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I Gotta Get Out There, and Shovel More Snow!

If you see me a comin' with my shovel, you better step aside
With one smack of my shovel in your face, you just might die
One arm is made of iron, the other one made of steel
If the right one don't a-get you, then the left one will

You shovel about ten inches, and what do you get
Why another ten inches, and you ain’t done yet
Saint Peter, don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I Gotta Get Out There, and Shovel More Snow!

And when I’m finally done today, shovelin all of this snow,
For a nice little dip in frozen Lake Michigan, I’m a gonna go


©The Great Chicago Blizzard of 2015, Old Mr. Ed