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| OLD Tubal Cain was a man of might, | |
| In the days when earth was young; | |
| By the fierce red light of his furnace bright, | |
| The strokes of his hammer rung: | |
| And he lifted high his brawny hand | 5 |
| On the iron glowing clear, | |
| Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers, | |
| As he fashioned the sword and the spear. | |
| And he sang: “Hurrah for my handiwork! | |
| Hurrah for the spear and the sword! | 10 |
| Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well, | |
| For he shall be king and lord.” | |
|
| To Tubal Cain came many a one, | |
| As he wrought by his roaring fire, | |
| And each one prayed for a strong steel blade | 15 |
| As the crown of his desire: | |
| And he made them weapons sharp and strong, | |
| Till they shouted loud for glee, | |
| And gave him gifts of pearl and gold, | |
| And spoils of the forest free. | 20 |
| And they sang: “Hurrah for Tubal Cain, | |
| Who hath given us strength anew! | |
| Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the fire, | |
| And hurrah for the metal true!” | |
|
| But a sudden change came o’er his heart, | 25 |
| Ere the setting of the sun, | |
| And Tubal Cain was filled with pain | |
| For the evil he had done; | |
| He saw that men, with rage and hate, | |
| Made war upon their kind, | 30 |
| That the land was red with the blood they shed, | |
| In their lust for carnage blind. | |
| And he said: “Alas! that ever I made, | |
| Or that skill of mine should plan, | |
| The spear and the sword for men whose joy | 35 |
| Is to slay their fellow-man!” | |
|
| And for many a day old Tubal Cain | |
| Sat brooding o’er his woe; | |
| And his hand forbore to smite the ore, | |
| And his furnace smouldered low. | 40 |
| But he rose at last with a cheerful face, | |
| And a bright courageous eye, | |
| And bared his strong right arm for work, | |
| While the quick flames mounted high. | |
| And he sang: “Hurrah for my handiwork!” | 45 |
| And the red sparks lit the air; | |
| “Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made,”— | |
| And he fashioned the first ploughshare. | |
|
| And men, taught wisdom from the past, | |
| In friendship joined their hands, | 50 |
| Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, | |
| And ploughed the willing lands; | |
| And sang: “Hurrah for Tubal Cain! | |
| Our stanch good friend is he; | |
| And for the ploughshare and the plough | 55 |
| To him our praise shall be. | |
| But while oppression lifts its head, | |
| Or a tyrant would be lord, | |
| Though we may thank him for the plough, | |
| We ’ll not forget the sword!” |
