Let The Canefields Burn
By Graeme Connors

Graeme plays this tuned down half a step to D#
_________________________________________________________
E                          G#m         A              E
There's a painting of my grandfather, on my mothers side
         F#m             G#m            A                B
in the hallway of our homestaed, in a special place of pride
            E           G#m               A             E
with his bulldogs and kanakas, back in eighteen nighty three
       A                E      F#m          B          E  add9
in a linen suit and a panama, they say he looked like me.


 E                     G#m           A               E
and the story goes he came out, to make a brand new start
        F#m        G#m         A             B 
in an effort to forget, a sad affair of the heart
          E              G#m              A         E
so with these romantic notions, to the colonies he came
           A              E                    F#m     B      E
where he settled in the tropics and made his fortune growing cane.

Chorus:
E                              E
Well let the canefields burn, let the flames rise
E          A                            E
let the politicians and the bankers in the city look up
E                         A      E
in wonder at the glow at in the sky.
E
let the canefield burn, let me feel no pain
         A                E          B            E
when I drown my soul in whisky, and dance in the flames.

E                      G#m            A              E
There's a photo of my parents, taken in between the wars
    F#m             G#m     A               B
in London, Rome or Paris, I don't know for shure
E                           G#m                A             E
but it hangs there in the hallway and there's one for every year
 A                   G#m                F#m       B      E  add9    
fortunes made, and fortunes paid, for champagne souveniers.


Chorus:....let the canefields burn....

C#m                                   E
And they say they're gonna take this all away from me
C#m                                      E
the cars the cane the homestead, all my family history
      C#m                                E                 A
well tomorrow when the bankers come, to settle all their claims
          E                       B                 E       add9
let the auctioneer open...with a price for charred remains!


Chorus:....let the canefields burn....

Worked out by Jas for private use only!
www.geocities.com/gondwanna_country