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, scent of magnolia, sweet and fresh.
Then the sudden smell. A burning flesh, here is a fruit for the crows to pluck, for the rain to gather, for the wind to suck.