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
