The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll(Chords)

	        C                   Am             Em 
William Zantzinger killed Poor Hattie Carroll  
C                              Am                         Em 
With a canethat he twirled around his diamond ring finger 
C                      Am           Em 
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin' 
C                               Am                    Em 
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him 
C                               Am        Em   
As they rode him in custody down to the station 
C                                   Am            Em                          G 
And booked William Zantzinger for first-degree murder 
        F     G         C                 Am 
But you who philosophize disgrace 
        F       G     C         
And criticize all fears 
F             G    C                      Am 
Take the rag away from your face 
F                  G                    C 
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 
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 
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 ?n 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 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  




	        

Written by Bob Dylan