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
