Southern trees bear strange fruit   Blood on the leaves and blood at the root   Her black body's 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   And then the sudden smell of burning flesh      Now here is your 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   Now here is your strange and bitter crop      Strange fruit