Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the roots
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scenes of the gallant south
The big bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia, clean and fresh
The sudden smell of burning 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 leaves to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the roots
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