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Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he his ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'.
And the cops called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody to the station
And booked William for first-degree murder.
But you who philosophize 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 of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And office relations in the politics of Maryland,
Reacted to his 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 disgrace and criticize all fears,
the rag from your face.
Now ain't the time for tears.
Hattie was a of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one 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 to the people at the table
Who 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 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 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 in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And that the nobles get properly handled
Once the cops chased after and 'em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom,
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who happened to be feelin' that way warnin'.
And he his cloak, most and distinguished,
And out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
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 tears.
With a cane that he his ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'.
And the cops called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody to the station
And booked William for first-degree murder.
But you who philosophize 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 of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And office relations in the politics of Maryland,
Reacted to his 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 disgrace and criticize all fears,
the rag from your face.
Now ain't the time for tears.
Hattie was a of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one 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 to the people at the table
Who 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 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 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 in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And that the nobles get properly handled
Once the cops chased after and 'em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom,
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who happened to be feelin' that way warnin'.
And he his cloak, most and distinguished,
And out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
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 tears.
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