Other Exercises
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William killed Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel gath'rin'.
And the cops were called in and his weapon from him
As they rode him in custody to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who disgrace and all fears,
the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
a tobacco farm of six acres
rich wealthy parents who provide and him
And 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 was out walking.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie was a maid of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one years old and 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 talk to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the on a whole 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 William Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the pounded his gavel
To show that all's 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 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 warnin'.
And he through his cloak, most and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for and repentance,
Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and all fears,
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the time for your tears.
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel gath'rin'.
And the cops were called in and his weapon from him
As they rode him in custody to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who disgrace and all fears,
the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
a tobacco farm of six acres
rich wealthy parents who provide and him
And 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 was out walking.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie was a maid of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one years old and 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 talk to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the on a whole 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 William Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the pounded his gavel
To show that all's 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 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 warnin'.
And he through his cloak, most and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for and repentance,
Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and all fears,
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the time for your tears.
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( Automatic Translation )
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