Strange Fruit
Southern trees bear strange fruitBlood at the leaves, blood at the rootBlack bodies swinging in the Southern breezeStrange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant SouthAnd the bulging eyes and the twisted mouthScent of magnolia sweet and freshThen the sudden smell of burning flesh
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluckFor the rain to gather, for the wind to suckFor the sun to rot, for the tree to dropHere is a strange and bitter crop.