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