Strange Fruit

Whilst actually doing work and reading about the lynching of black people in the southern states of the USA around the start of the 20th century, I came across this song. Or rather, I'd had it for ages, but just never listened to it properly. How had I missed the lyrics, and the haunting melody?!

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 magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter cry.


I have the Nina Simone version, but Billie Holiday sang it originally. The 'strange fruit' are obviously the bodies of tortured and hung black men, and the juxtaposition between this horrific imagery and that of a hot, noble, pastoral south is so...so...I don't know. Very emotive, anyway.

I knew about the existence of lynchmobs; I knew this sort of thing happened. But I didn't know the details, I didn't know the true extent. It shames me, actually, to realise how little I know about this world.