I caught the tail end of this story on NPR this morning and then got it sent to me by a friend. It describes the life of Abel Meeropol, the man who wrote "Strange Fruit," including why he used the pen name Lewis Allen. I've always found "Strange Fruit" to be an incredibly powerful song, but I never visually read the lyrics before. Here they are. And the article has a video of Lady Day singing it too.
Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body 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 magnolia sweet and fresh,
And 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 a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
What's Peanut eating? He found some sort of hard little ball this morning that I couldn't force out of his mouth. He swallowed it whole. I'm a little freaked that it will be another thousand dollar bite.