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THE LONESOME DEATH OF HATTIE CARROLL Bob Dylan
[E]William Zantz[A]inger killed poor [E]Hattie Carrol[G#m]l
With a [E]cane that he twi[A]rled around his [E]diamond ring fi[G#m]nger
At a Bal[E]timore h[G#m]otel soci[E]ety ga[G#m]th'rin'.
And the c[E]ops were called i[G#m]n and his [E]weapon took f[G#m]rom him
As they [E]rode him in [G#m]custody d[E]own to the s[G#m]tation
And booked W[E]illiam Za[G#m]ntzinger for fi[E]rst-degree m[G#m]urder.[B]
But [A]you w[B]ho phil[E]osophize dis[G#m]grace and cr[A]itici[B]ze all fe[E]ars,
[A]Take the [B]rag awa[E]y from your [C#m7]face.
[A]Now ain't the [B]time for your te[E]ars.
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,
Reacted to his deed with 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 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 dishes 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 whole other level,
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room,
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.
And she never done nothing to William Zantzinger.
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 his gavel
To show 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
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
Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'.
And he spoke through 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.
For now's the time for your tears.
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