[Originally by Bob Dylan]
|
|
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
|
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
|
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'.
|
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
|
As they rode him in custody down to the station
|
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
|
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
|
Take the rag away from your face.
|
Now ain't the time for your tears.
|
|
William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
|
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
|
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
|
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland,
|
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
|
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,
|
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking.
|
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
|
Take the rag away from your face.
|
Now ain't the time for your tears.
|
|
Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen.
|
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
|
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
|
And never sat once at the head of the table
|
And didn't even talk to the people at the table
|
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
|
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level,
|
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
|
That sailed through the air and came down through the room,
|
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.
|
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger.
|
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
|
Take the rag away from your face.
|
Now ain't the time for your tears.
|
|
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
|
To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level
|
And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
|
And that even the nobles get properly handled
|
Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em
|
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom,
|
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
|
Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'.
|
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished,
|
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
|
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.
|
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
|
Bury the rag deep in your face
|
For now's the time for your tears.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll
|
| RX Bandits |
