Strange Fruit

Southern trees bearin' 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

Them big bulgin' eyes and the twisted mouth

Scent of magnolia, clean and fresh

Then the sudden smell of burnin' flesh

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck

For the rain to gather and for the wind to suck

For the sun to rot and for the leaves to drop

Here is a strange and bitter crop