Other Exercises
Fill In the blanks, then press Score to check your answers
William killed poor Hattie Carroll
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 him
As they rode him in down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who 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 farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who and protect him
And high office in the politics of Maryland,
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,
In a matter of minutes on 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 maid of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one years old and gave to ten children
Who carried the dishes and out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn't talk to the people at the table
Who cleaned up all the food the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level,
Got by a blow, lay by a cane
That sailed the air and came through the room,
Doomed and determined to all the gentle.
And she never nothing to Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To 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
that the cops chased after and caught 'em
And the 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 through his cloak, most and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
Zanzinger 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.
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 him
As they rode him in down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who 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 farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who and protect him
And high office in the politics of Maryland,
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,
In a matter of minutes on 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 maid of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one years old and gave to ten children
Who carried the dishes and out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn't talk to the people at the table
Who cleaned up all the food the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level,
Got by a blow, lay by a cane
That sailed the air and came through the room,
Doomed and determined to all the gentle.
And she never nothing to Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To 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
that the cops chased after and caught 'em
And the 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 through his cloak, most and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
Zanzinger 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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