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The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll

Bob Dylan
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OriginalVersione francese di Hugues Aufray sull'album Chante Dylan (1965)...
THE LONESOME DEATH OF HATTIE CARROLL

William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'.
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who philosophize 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 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 Zanzinger.
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 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.
THE LONESOME DEATH OF HATTIE CARROLL

William Zanzinger a tué Hattie Carroll
Il l'a tué sans raison d'un coup de canne en or
Au cours d'une soirée donnée à Baltimore.
La police appelée désarma l'assassin
Il fut accompagné jusqu'au poste voisin
Inculpé d'homicide et gardé en prison.

Vous qui philosophez tout le temps et critiquez les gens
Ne sortez pas votre mouchoir, vous pleurerez plus tard.

William Zanzinger tout juste vingt quatre ans
Possédait un domaine d'au moins trois cents hectares
Héritier, protégé par de riches parents,
Des soutiens politiques et des murs de dollars.
Il haussa les épaules, poussa quelques jurons
Et fut presque aussitôt libéré sous caution.

Vous qui philosophez tout le temps et critiquez les gens
Ne sortez pas votre mouchoir, vous pleurerez plus tard.

Hattie Carroll était plutôt noire de couleur
Elle avait 50 ans et dix enfants mineurs
Elle vidait les ordures et apportait les plats
S'approchait de la table mais ne s'asseyait pas
Elle n'osait adresser la parole au patron
Vidant les cendriers, balayant le salon,
Elle fut tué sur le coup, pauvre femme de misère
Elle qui n'avait rien fait à William Zanzinger.

Vous qui philosophez tout le temps et critiquez les gens
Ne sortez pas votre mouchoir, vous pleurerez plus tard.

Au palais de justice, le juge pris son temps
Pour étudier l'affaire très attentivement
Il dit tout citoyen pris en flagrant délit
Qu'il soit riche, qu'il soit pauvre, devait être puni
Et que la loi ferait aucune distinction
Condamnant sans faiblesse ceux qui tuent sans raison
Attendus ces motifs, le juge d'un ton sévère
Donna six mois de prison à William Zanzinger.

Vous qui philosophez tout le temps et critiquez les gens
Vous pouvez sortir vos mouchoirs, il est bien temps de pleurer ce soir.


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