Every morning at the mine you could see him arrive, he stood six foot six, he weighed 245, kind of broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hip, and everybody knew you didn't give no rib to Big John. Big John, Big John, Big Bad John. Now nobody seemed to know where John called home, he just drifted into town and stayed all alone, he didn't say much, kind of quiet and shy, and if you spoke at all you just said hi to Big John. Somebody said he came from down in New Orleans where he got in a fight over a Cajun queen, and a crashing blow from a huge right hand sent a Louisiana fella to the promised land, Big John. Big John, Big John, Big Bad John. Then came that day at the bottom of the mine when timbers cracked and men started crying, miners were praying and hearts beat fast and everybody thought that they'd breathed their last, said John. Through the dust and the smoke of that man made hell walked a giant of a man that the miners knew well, grabbed a sagging timber, gave out with a groan like a giant old tree just stood there alone, Big John. Big John, Big John, Big Bad John. And with all of his strength he gave them a mighty show, and a miner yelled out, there's a light up above, and twenty men scrambled from a would be grave, and now there's only one left down there to save, Big John. The jacks and timbers they started back down, then came that rumble way down in the ground, the smoke and the gas belched out of that mine and everybody knew it was the end of the line for Big John. Big John, Big John, Big Bad John. Now they never reopened that worthless pit, they just placed a marble stand in front of it, and these few words are written on that stand, at the bottom of this mine lies a big, big man, Big John. Big John, Big John, Big Bad John. .