The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie CarrollWith a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring fingerAt a Baltimore hotel society gath’rin’And the cops were called in and his weapon took from himAs they rode him in custody down to the stationAnd booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murderBut you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fearsTake the rag away from your faceNow ain’t the time for your tears
William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four yearsOwns a tobacco farm of six hundred acresWith rich wealthy parents who provide and protect himAnd high office relations in the politics of MarylandReacted to his deed with a shrug of his shouldersAnd swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarlingIn a matter of minutes on bail was out walkingBut you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fearsTake the rag away from your faceNow ain’t the time for your tears
Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchenShe was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten childrenWho carried the dishes and took out the garbageAnd never sat once at the head of the tableAnd didn’t even talk to the people at the tableWho just cleaned up all the food from the tableAnd emptied the ashtrays on a whole other levelGot killed by a blow, lay slain by a caneThat sailed through the air and came down through the roomDoomed and determined to destroy all the gentleAnd she never done nothing to William ZanzingerBut you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fearsTake the rag away from your faceNow ain’t the time for your tears
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavelTo show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the levelAnd that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and persuadedAnd that even the nobles get properly handledOnce that the cops have chased after and caught ’emAnd that the ladder of law has no top and no bottomStared at the person who killed for no reasonWho just happened to be feelin’ that way without warnin’And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguishedAnd handed out strongly, for penalty and repentanceWilliam Zanzinger with a six-month sentenceOh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fearsBury the rag deep in your faceFor now’s the time for your tears