Other Exercises
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William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he around 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 down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who philosophize and criticize all fears,
Take the rag 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 wealthy 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 it was snarling,
In a of minutes on bail was out walking.
But you who philosophize and 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 birth to ten children
Who carried the 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 other level,
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
sailed through the air and came down through the room,
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.
And she never done nothing to Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize disgrace and 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 all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And even the nobles get properly handled
Once the cops have 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 without warnin'.
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for 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 around 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 down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who philosophize and criticize all fears,
Take the rag 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 wealthy 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 it was snarling,
In a of minutes on bail was out walking.
But you who philosophize and 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 birth to ten children
Who carried the 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 other level,
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
sailed through the air and came down through the room,
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.
And she never done nothing to Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize disgrace and 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 all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And even the nobles get properly handled
Once the cops have 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 without warnin'.
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for 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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