Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves
And blood at the root
Black bodies swinging
In the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias
Sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh
Here is the fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rains to gather
For the winds to suck
For the sun to rot
For the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop
