Tord of Hafsborough, and Other Ballads

Transcribed from the 1914 Thomas J. Wise pamphlet by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
by GEORGE BORROW
London: PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION
1914
Copyright in the United States of America by Houghton , Mifflin and Co. for Clement Shorter .
It was Tord of Hafsborough, O’er the verdant wold would ride, And there he lost his hammer of gold, ’Twas lost for so long a tide.
It was Tord of Hafsborough, His brother he addressed: “Thou shalt away to the Norland hills, My hammer be thy quest.”
It was Lokke Leyemand, A feather robe o’er him drew; And away to the Norland mountains high O’er the briny sea he flew.
In the midst of the castle yard He smoothèd his array; Then straight he took to the castle hall, To the carlish Count his way.
“Be welcome, Lokke Leyemand, Be welcome my castle to; Say! how fare things in Hafsborough? With the land how does it go?”
“O, well fare things in Hafsborough, And well in the country all; Tord has his golden hammer lost, Therefore seek I your hall.”
“Tord he shall not his hammer get, Thou back may’st carry him word; Full five-and-ninety fathoms deep It lies in the earth interred.