Let the Canefields Burn

There's a painting of my grandfather

On my mother's side

In the hallway of the homestead

In a special place of pride

With his bulldogs and kanakas

Back in 1893

In a linen suit and a panama

They say he looked like me

And the story goes, he came out

To make a brand new start

In an effort to forget

A sad affair of the heart

And with these romantic notions

To the colonies he came

Where he settled in the tropics

And made his fortune growing cane

Well let the canefields burn

Let the flames rise

Let the politicians and the bankers in the city look up

In wonder at the glow in the skies

Let the canefields burn

Let me feel no pain

When I drown my soul in whisky

And dance in the flames

There's a photo of my parents

Taken in between the wars

In London, Rome, or Paris

I don't know for sure

But it hangs there in the hallway

And there's one for every year

Fortunes made, and fortunes paid

For champagne souvenirs

So let the canefields burn

Let the flames rise

Let the politicians and the bankers in the city look up

In wonder at the glow in the skies

Let the canefields burn

Let me feel no pain

When I drown my soul in whisky

And dance in the flames

And now they say they're gonna take

This all away from me

The cars, the cane, the homestead

All my family history

Well, tomorrow when the bankers come

To settle all their claims

Let the auctioneer open

With a price for charred remains

And let the canefields burn

Let the flames rise

Let the politicians and the bankers in the city look up

In wonder at the glow in the skies

Let the canefields burn

Let me feel no pain

When I drown my soul in whisky

And dance in the flames

Let the canefields burn

Let the flames rise

Let the politicians and the bankers in the city look up

In wonder at the glow in the skies

Let the canefields burn

Let me feel no pain

When I drown my soul in whisky

And dance in the flames