Southern trees

Bear a strange fruit

Blood on the leaves

And blood at the root

Black bodies swingin'

In the Southern breeze

Strange fruit hangin'

From the poplar trees

Pastoral scene of the gallant South

The bulgin' eyes and the twisted mouth

Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh

Then the sudden smell of burnin' flesh

Here is a fruit

For the crows to pluck

For the rain to gather

For the wind to suck

For the sun to rot

For the tree to drop

Here is a strange

And bitter crop