Southern trees bearing 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 treesPastoral scene of the gallant south
Bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning fleshHere is a fruit for the crow to pluck
For the rain to wither, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop, it's deadPastoral scene of the gallant south
Bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning fleshHere is a fruit for the crow to pluck
For the rain to wither, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop, it's dead