Billie Holiday: Strange Fruit
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Southern trees bear a 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 a 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 crop.
Read about it.
Discuss...
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2 comments:
This song was the best suggestion I got during a recent discussion about death songs. The main criterion was that the lyrics couldn't be literal/direct (primarily to eliminate death metal and The Doors).
Before all the death metal/Doors fans object, it's because I was looking for subtlety. In any case, this song fits.
It's one of the most stunning song of the 1930's. It took a lot of courage for a popular Black singer like Billie H to sing about the KKK and deep racism of the American South. Most of the time, miss Holliday was singin' love songs, you know...
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