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The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll English Medium

by Bob Dylan

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William Zanzinger poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond 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 down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who philosophize disgrace and all fears,
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 rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland,
Reacted to his deed 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 tears.

Hattie was a maid of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one years old and gave to ten children
Who carried the and took out the garbage
And sat 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 level,
Got by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came 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 pounded his gavel
To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the in the ain't pulled and persuaded
And that the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em
And 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 spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
William Zanzinger 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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