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William Zanzinger killed Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel gath'rin'.
And the cops were in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
Owns a farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and him
And high relations in the of Maryland,
to his deed a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,
In a matter of on was out walking.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag from face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie 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 to the at the table
Who just cleaned up all the from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level,
Got by a blow, lay slain by a cane
the air and came down the room,
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.
And she done nothing to William Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
the rag face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To 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 even the nobles get handled
Once that the cops have chased after and 'em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom,
Stared at the person who for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'.
And he spoke his cloak, deep and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Bury the rag deep in face
For now's the time for tears.
With a cane that he twirled around his ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel gath'rin'.
And the cops were in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
Owns a farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and him
And high relations in the of Maryland,
to his deed a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,
In a matter of on was out walking.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag from face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie 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 to the at the table
Who just cleaned up all the from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level,
Got by a blow, lay slain by a cane
the air and came down the room,
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.
And she done nothing to William Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
the rag face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To 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 even the nobles get handled
Once that the cops have chased after and 'em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom,
Stared at the person who for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'.
And he spoke his cloak, deep and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Bury the rag deep in face
For now's the time for tears.
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