Old Tubal Cain was a cunning file,
In the days when men were green;
But not till night, when the gas burnt bright,
Was he ever to be seen.
And he fashioned reports for the daily press,
Of sudden deaths and fire;
But a penny a line by his industry
Was all he could acquire.
And he sang, "Hurrah! for my handiwork
Hurrah! for the street called Bow;