Auprès de mon arbre

L'arbre de la High School de Jena, Louisiane, à l'ombre duquel seuls les élèves blancs avaient le droit de s'abriter. Et l'année dernière, quand les noirs se mirent à réclamer leur droit à l'ombre, ils trouvèrent trois noeuds coulants suspendus aux branches. On sait ce qui s'ensuivit. Mychal Bell, libéré sous caution, pourra réécouter Strange fruit par Billie Holiday

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.

et, concernant la justice du bon vieux Sud, réviser Furry Lewis, Judge Harsh blues

Good morning judge, what may be my fine?
Good morning judge, what may be my fine?
Good morning judge, what may be my fine?
Fifty dollars eleven twenty-nine (1)

They arrest me for murder and I ain't never harmed a man
Arrest me for murder and I ain't never harmed a man
Arrest me for forgery and I can't even sign my name

Arrest me for murder and I ain't hurt a man
Arrest me for murder and I ain't harmed a man
Arrest Furry for forgery and he can't even sign his name

Some got six months, some got a solid year
Some got six months, some got a solid year
But me and my partner we got lifetime here

If I just had-a known I was goin' to get so long
If I just had-a known I was goin' to get so long
Boy if I just had-a known I was goin' to get so long
Some Western country would have been my home

Western country would have been my home
Western country would have been my home

I know my baby she don't know I'm here
I know my baby she don't know I'm here
Boy my baby she don't know I'm here
If she do she sure don't feel my care

(1) "eleven twenty-nine", 11.29, ça veut dire un an de prison.

Les séquences de film avec Gregory Peck viennent de To kill a mockingbird, un superbe classique antiraciste de 1962, comme quoi ces bons Louisianais nous ramènent assez loin en arrière. Allez, pour se consoler, mais toujours du bon vieux temps, Big Bill Broonzy dans l'instrumental Hey Hey


et aussi dans une cave de Saint-Germain...


...et pour ceux que les coups de soleil démangeraient encore, faute d'ombre, voici Lightnin' Hopkins, Chérie, gratte-moi le dos - Baby, scratch my back...


Ah, et puis l'arbre a été coupé. Des fois que, non mais.

Pour en savoir plus : ici et là.