Southern trees
Bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves
Blood at the root
Black bodies swinging
In the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging
From the poplar tree

Pastoral scene of the
Gallant south
The bulging eyes and
The twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia
So sweet and fresh
Then 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
For the Sun to rot
For the trees to drop

Drop

Ah the trees to drop
Strange and bitter crop
Still strange and bitter