♪ ♪
♪ Southern trees ♪
♪ Bear strange fruit ♪
♪ Blood on the leaves ♪
♪ And blood at the root ♪
♪ Black ♪
♪ Black, black bodies swinging ♪
♪ In the Southern breeze ♪
♪ Strange fruit hanging ♪
♪ From the poplar trees ♪
♪ Pastoral ♪
♪ Scene ♪
♪ Of the ♪
♪ Gallant South ♪
♪ The ♪
♪ Bulging eyes ♪
♪ And the twisted mouth ♪
♪ Scent of magnolia ♪
♪ Sweet ♪
♪ So sweet and fresh ♪
♪ Then the sudden smell ♪
♪ Of burning flesh ♪
♪ Oh, Lord ♪
♪ Oh, Lord, oh, Lord ♪
♪ Oh, Lord ♪
(breathes raggedly)
♪ Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck ♪
♪ For the wind to gather ♪
♪ For the wind to suck ♪
♪ For the sun to rot ♪
♪ For the trees to drop ♪
♪ Here is ♪
♪ Here is, here ♪
♪ Here is, here is ♪
♪ Here is a strange and bitter ♪
♪ Bitter crop ♪
(vocalizing)
(scatting)
♪ Such a strange and bitter crop ♪
♪ Such a strange and bitter crop. ♪
(cheering and applause)