Let The Canefields Burn

Graeme plays this tuned down half a step to _________________________________________________________ There's a painting of my grandfather, on my mothers side in the hallway of our homestaed, in a special place of pride with his bulldogs and kanakas, back in eighteen nighty three add9 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 so 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 at in the sky. let the canefield 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 shure but it hangs there in the hallway and there's one for every year add9 fortunes made, and fortunes paid, for champagne souveniers. Chorus:....let the canefields burn.... And 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 add9 let the auctioneer open...with a price for charred remains! Chorus:....let the canefields burn....