Clifford Grey & Cuthbert Clarke
It's an 'ard life is furniture movin',
Believe me or not, but it's true
We 'aven't much use for a slacker,
We works, when we works, when we do.

Us chaps down at Bangem and Bashets
Is noted for vigour and go
But the bloke wot we took off our hats to,
Was a fellow from Hoxton called Joe.

He was known to his pals as the 'smasher',
He stood seven feet in his socks
With a fist like a shoulder of mutton,
And a blow that would slaughter an ox.

With furniture he was a marvel,
There was nothing that Joe couldn't do
If he tackled a job down at 'Ighgate
They picked up the splinters at Kew.

He'd walk in a room full of china,
A room wot we'd been in ourselves
And just glance around at the dishes,
And the whole lot 'ud drop from their shelves.

The way he could serve a pyanner, well...
Take it from me, was a treat
A minute or so with his coat off
'Ud see it in bits in the street.

But fate is more strong nor wot we are,
It beats us whatever we do
And a simple suburban removal
Provided poor Joe's Waterloo.

He went to a job down at Acton,
With never a hint of a storm
He dealt with a 'what-not' to start with,
Which left him in pretty good form.

He toyed with a couple of mirrors
And dropped a few jugs on the stairs
Put his toe through a few of the pictures
And done in some sofas and chairs.

Well he'd had a pretty fair mornin'
And was just about ready to go,
When he noticed a small china image
Which seemed like it beckoned to Joe.

He went in his light 'earted manner,
And careless like reached out his hand
And rattled it round on the flooring,
Just to see what it really would stand.

It came as a bit of a stunner
To see it remaining intact
So he gave it another good rattle - 
Well, two or three rattles in fact.

At first he was rather bewildered,
And than he began to get wild
So he gave it a kick which near maimed him,
And the image just seemed as it smiled.

He wasn't a chap to lose courage,
He tried all he knew to be calm
So he fetched it a clout with a fender,
But bless you it did it no harm.

We gave him the tip it was lunch time, 
We has ours from twelve until three
But he never paid us no attention ,
The same when we went out to tea.

It was near closing time when we saw him, 
The image was still lying there
'E was all sort of 'ard in his breathing, 
And his eyes had a fixed glassy stare.

He staggered and reeled for a moment,
We gave him a bit of a cheer
As he made one last desp'rit effort,
As filled us with horror and fear.

Our hearts pretty nearly stopped beating
We heard a loud crash and a fall
And we saw through the bricks and the mortar,
He'd busted himself clean through the wall.

We picked him up out of the roadway,
The image was still by his side
It hadn't so much as a blemish,
But Joe gave a shudder and died.

Too late for poor Joe we discovered,
The thing was a marvellous fake
'Twas made of some new patent metal
The hardest stuff science can make.

No wonder it took in our Joseph,
He was dashin' 'isself on a rock
He died of acute disappointment,
Combined with heart- failure and shock.

It's a hard life is Furniture Movin',
But one thing we certainly know
There's plenty of chaps wot is 'andy...
But never a smasher like Joe. 
The end