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 crop.
By Lewis Allen
Song sung by Billie Holiday [link]
I couldn't help but think of this song when I saw this sculpture hanging from a tree. It's actually a metal cast wasp nest...but from a distance it looks like a body in a bag.
This was taken at the same place I took the mixed up mob picture.