Strange Fruit

Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves
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

 

In 1937, Abel Meeropol, a Jewish school-teacher and member of the American Communist Party from New York, saw a photo of the lynching of Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith. The picture haunted him so much he was moved to write the above poem, Strange Fruit.

Two years later he approached Billie Holiday showing her his poem and with the help of Sonny White the once short poem became the over powering cry of pain it still is 63 years later.

Holiday first performed Strange Fruit when she was 24-years-old at the Cafe Society, a fashionable night-spot for both blacks and whites in Greenwich Village. The song became Holiday's signature song and, more than that, a song that foretold the civil rights movement and changed the world.

I believe this is the most bittersweet song I've ever heard. I hope it moves visitors as much as it moves me.

© 1999-2004 Strange Fruit. All rights reserved. Email

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