Other Exercises
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William 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 and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With wealthy parents who and protect him
And office in the politics of Maryland,
to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,
In a of 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 for your tears.
Hattie Carroll was a of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one years old and gave to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat at the head of the table
And didn't even talk to the people at the table
Who cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole level,
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room,
and determined to all the gentle.
And she done nothing to 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 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,
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 and criticize all fears,
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the for your tears.
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 and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With wealthy parents who and protect him
And office in the politics of Maryland,
to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,
In a of 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 for your tears.
Hattie Carroll was a of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one years old and gave to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat at the head of the table
And didn't even talk to the people at the table
Who cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole level,
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room,
and determined to all the gentle.
And she done nothing to 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 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,
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 and criticize all fears,
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the for your tears.
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