Southern trees bear a strange fruit   Blood on the leaves and blood at the root   Black bodies swingin' in the Southern breeze   Strange fruit hangin' from the poplar trees      Pastoral scene of the gallant South   The bulgin' eyes and the twisted mouth   Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh   Then the sudden smell of burnin' 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 tree to drop   Here is a strange and bitter crop