Rollin' Down to Old Maui

It's a damn tough life full of toil and strife We whalermen undergo And we don't give a damn when the gale is done How hard the winds do blow We're homeward bound from the Arctic Sound With a good ship taut and free And we don't give a damn when we drink our rum With the girls of Old Maui

Once more we sail with the Northerly gale Towards our Island home Our mainmast sprung, our whaling done And we ain't got far to roam Our stans'l booms is carried away What care we for that sound A living gale after us Thank God we're homeward bound

How soft the breeze through the island trees Now the ice is far astern Them native maids, them tropical glades Is awaiting our return Even now their big, brown eyes look out Hoping some fine to see Our baggy sails running 'fore the gales Rolling down to Old Maui

We'll heave the lead where old Diamond Head Looms up on old Wahu Our masts and yards are sheathed with ice And our desks are hid from view The horrid ice of the sea-caked isles That deck the Arctic sea Are miles behind in the frozen wind Since we steered for Old Maui

And now we're anchored in the bay With the Kanakas all around With chants and soft aloha-oos They greet us homeward bound And now ashore we'll have good fun We'll paint them beaches red Awakening in the arms of an island maid With a big fat aching head