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Lewis allen, sonny white |
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Seven trees |
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Bearin' strange fruit |
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Blood on the leaves |
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And blood at the roots |
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Black bodies |
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Swinging in the southern breeze |
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Strange fruit hangin' |
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From the poplar trees |
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Pastoral scene |
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Of the gallant south |
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Them big bulging eyes |
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And the twisted mouth |
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Scent of magnolia |
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Clean and fresh |
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Then the sudden smell |
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Of burnin' flesh |
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Here is a fruit |
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For the crows to pluck |
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For the rain to gather |
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For the wind to suck |
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For the sun to rot |
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For the leaves to drop |
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Here is |
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Strange and bitter crop |
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As singed by billie holiday |
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Southern trees bear strange fruit, |
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Blood on the leaves and blood at the root, |
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Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze, |
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Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees. |
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Pastoral scene of the gallant south, |
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The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth, |
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Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh, |
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Then the sudden smell of burning flesh. |
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Here is fruit for the crows to pluck, |
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For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck, |
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For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop, |
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Here is a strange and bitter cry. |
