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      Here is a strange and bitter crop