The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll

William Zantzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger At a Baltimore hotel society gatherin' And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him As they rode him in custody down to the station Booked William Zantzinger for first-degree murder Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Take the rag away from your face Now ain't the time for your tears William Zantzinger, 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 He reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders And swear words and cursing, and his tongue it was a-snarling In a manner of minutes on bail was out walking Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Take the rag away from your face Now ain't the time for your tears Hattie Carroll was a maid in the kitchen She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children Cleaned off the dishes and took out the garbage Never once sat at the head of the table And didn't even talk to the people at the table But just cleaned up all the food from the table And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane That sailed through the room and come down through the air Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle And she never done nothin' to William Zantzinger Oh, 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 the gavel To show that all's equal and the courts are on the level And the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded And that even the nobles 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 Stared at the person who killed for no reason He just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin' And he spoke from his cloak, most deep and distinguished And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance William Zantzinger with a six-month sentence Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears Bury the rag deep in your face Now is the time for your tears