Justice And Prejudice Poem by michael spangenberg

This is a true story, taken out of the 1963 newspaper
African-American barmaid, Hattie Carroll
Fifty-one years old, humble maid in the kitchen
Gave birth to 10 children who'all adored their mummie
Who cleaned up the dishes and hold out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn't even speak to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays without smiling.

Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With canes that he twirled around fat diamond ring fingers
At a Baltimore hotel white-boy society gathering
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 2nd-degree murder

William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide & protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words & sneering, his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes, on bail young'Bill was out walking.

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 & 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 white boy who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warning
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep & distinguished
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.

Oh, the times are they really a'changing?
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger
But you who act in total'disgrace, criticize all fears
Bury God's justice deep in your face
For now's the time, the high-time for poor
Hattie Carroll's ten children's tears.

Footnote - Credit where credit's due: poetic variation
on the protest song written by Noble Prize laureate
Bob Dylan (1964) .