This song is for Fire. I was good friends with Fire. So I’d come over and see Fire and we’d have dinner. I’d bring the meat and Fire would cook. But it was a long ways to Fire’s house, so I invited Fire to come to my house for a barbecue.

But Fire told me he can’t walk, and so to get to my house, I must lay a path of dry bush, and Fire could walk on top of dry bush to the barbecue.

I was married at the time to Ground Dove. Ground Dove wasn’t pleased with the idea. “Don’t bring that red-haired bastard over here! He’ll get drunk, want to come inside, and then pass out!”

I laughed at her. Fire was my friend, after all. So I laid out a path of dry brush, and fire came skipping and jumping down the path to the barbecue. But when he got close, he jumped on me, then jumped on my house, and burnt everything but Groud Dove.

She left me shortly thereafter. What the fuck, Fire? I thought we were friends.