Southern trees
Bear 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
Pastoral scene
Of the gallant south
The bulging eyes
And the twisted mouth
The scent of magnolia
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 to rot
For the tree to drop
Here is a strange
And bitter crop

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