Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the roots
Black
bodies swingin' in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin' from the poplar
trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and twisted
mouth
Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh
And the sudden smell of burning
flesh
Here is the 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
