The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll lyrics and chords
Recorded by Christy Moore and written by Bob Dylan. I have given the guitar chords in the keys of C and G Major. More of the lyrics and chords of Christy Moore songs are here.
[C]William Zan(Am]zinger killed (Em]poor Hattie Carroll,
With a (C]cane that he (Am]twirled around (Em]his diamond ring finger
At a (C]Baltimore (Am]hotel so(Emin)ciety gath'rin'.
And the (C]cops was called (Am]in and his (Em]weapon took from him
As they (C)rode him in (Am]custody (Emin)down to the station
And booked (C]William Zan(Amin]zinger for (Emin)first-degree murder. (G]
But (F]you (G)who phil(C]osophize dis(Amin]grace and (F]criti(G]cize all (C]fears,
(F]Take the (G)rag a(C]way from your (Am]face.
(F]Now ain't the (G]time for your (C]tears.
William Zanzinger, 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 a-snarling,
And in a matter of minutes on bail was out walking.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize 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
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 Zanzinger.
And 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 Zanzinger 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.
With a (C]cane that he (Am]twirled around (Em]his diamond ring finger
At a (C]Baltimore (Am]hotel so(Emin)ciety gath'rin'.
And the (C]cops was called (Am]in and his (Em]weapon took from him
As they (C)rode him in (Am]custody (Emin)down to the station
And booked (C]William Zan(Amin]zinger for (Emin)first-degree murder. (G]
But (F]you (G)who phil(C]osophize dis(Amin]grace and (F]criti(G]cize all (C]fears,
(F]Take the (G)rag a(C]way from your (Am]face.
(F]Now ain't the (G]time for your (C]tears.
William Zanzinger, 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 a-snarling,
And in a matter of minutes on bail was out walking.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize 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
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 Zanzinger.
And 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 Zanzinger 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.
Here's the guitar chords for the key of G.
[G]William Zan[Em]zinger killed [Bm]poor Hattie Carroll,
With a [G]cane that he [Em]twirled around [Bm]his diamond ring finger
At a [G]Baltimore [Em]hotel so[Bm]ciety gath'rin'.
And the [G]cops was called [Em]in and his [Bm]weapon took from him
As they [G]rode him in [Em]custody [Bm]down to the station
And booked [G]William Zan[Em]zinger for [Bm]first-degree murder. [D]
But [C]you [D]who phil[G]osophize dis[Em]grace and [C]criti[D]cize all [G]fears,
[C]Take the [D]rag a[G]way from your [Em]face.
[C]Now ain't the [D]time for your [G]tears.
[G]William Zan[Em]zinger killed [Bm]poor Hattie Carroll,
With a [G]cane that he [Em]twirled around [Bm]his diamond ring finger
At a [G]Baltimore [Em]hotel so[Bm]ciety gath'rin'.
And the [G]cops was called [Em]in and his [Bm]weapon took from him
As they [G]rode him in [Em]custody [Bm]down to the station
And booked [G]William Zan[Em]zinger for [Bm]first-degree murder. [D]
But [C]you [D]who phil[G]osophize dis[Em]grace and [C]criti[D]cize all [G]fears,
[C]Take the [D]rag a[G]way from your [Em]face.
[C]Now ain't the [D]time for your [G]tears.
Christy Moore ballad singer of The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll
