Southern trees They bear a strange fruits Blood on the leaves And there's blood at the root Black body swinging
in the Southern breeze Strange fruit is hanging from the southern trees
Strange sounds are coming from the gallant South The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh And the sudden smell of burning flesh
Here is a crop for the crows to pluck For the wind to gather And for the rain to suck For the sun to rot And for trees to drop Here blows strange and bitter crop
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