| Lyrics: | Southern trees bear 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,
Of the bulging eyes and the twisted
mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning
flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to
suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop |
