Same Strange Fruit - Tale of the Jena 6

Peter Piper picked a pint of pickaninnies for the picnic
Mammy packed a batch of goodies for the master and her mistress
Pickled bits of pain and sprinkled pinches in the biscuits
Poor white folks came out in throngs to pose for pictures with the victims
The plantations pulsed at once with trepidation and excitement for the killin
Shouts with glee, but slaves were whisperin
“Tonight there’s gon be a lynchin”
and so, it came to pass that the peculiar institution planted seeds about the land
for purple mountains majesty above the fruited plain
these cultivated trees bore apples, peaches and fruit that was strange
The killin of these cash commodities soiled the profits
And so they weren’t plucked often
Left the cotton gin abandoned and black babies on the porches left as orphans
But when freedom came so did the poverty and his beast
Shrouded in their hatred and cloaked in white sheets
They were sprung among the something made from nothing
For now these freemen seekin free land and the path to reconstruction
On any given day one could drive about
And see the lifeless dangling from a branch in the heart of the South
Homes were broken, lives were stolen
Poor Emmett Till so battered, so bruised – his coffin couldn’t be left open
Mostly beaten strung up screamin these mobs had their way with them for whatever reason
And death reserved for one guilty of treason
Mourners gathered at their feet and bowed their heads in bereavement
Uncle Sam turned a blind eye to this blatant genocide
Negroes getting ‘long fine, but they wouldn’t let it lie
“We gon’ kill a coon tonight” was the mob’s reply
and so was begotten this monstrous tradition
seems like Black folk been fightin terrorism in America since its beginning
and the terrorist attacks stretched far beyond the Confederates’ reach
kept Black folk out of the Back Bay, Bensonhurst and Howard Beach
and now the hatred’s manifest itself in vicious acts of amusement
cuz there’s trees in Louisiana where white students are hanging nooses
and the authorities found it prudent
to imprison one of the six
who had the audacity to stand up and resist
The others threatened with expulsion and detention
For defending their right not to play a proverbial game of hangmen
“What’s the big deal?” I heard it said by one and I had a thought to offer her –
the noose on a tree is as offensive to me as a Jew might find a swastika
and as incomparable as she made my simile seem it was one she won’t forget
Cuz the Holocaust may’ve ended for them, but ours still persists
America, America built by Black hands for free
And drowned their toil in broken soil
From sea to bloody sea