Southern trees bear a 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. Oh----- Oh:-----
Pastoral scene of the gallant South The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh And 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 trees to drop Oh, ----- here is a strange and bitter --- crop. Oh, --- here is a strange and bitter crop.