Rolling Down to Old Maui



It's a damned tough life, full of toil and strife

We whalermen undergo.

And we don't give a damn when the gale has stopped

How hard the wind did blow.

We're homeward bound! 'Tis a grand old sound

On a good ship taut and free,

And we don't give a damn when we drink our rum

With the girls on old Maui.



cho.

Rolling down to old Maui, my boys,

Rolling down to old Maui.

We're homeward bound from the arctic ground

Rolling home to old Maui.



Once more we sail with a northerly gale

Through the ice and sleet and rain.

And them coconut fronds in them tropic lands

We soon shall see again.

Six hellish months we've passed away

In the cold Kamchatka sea,

And now we're bound from the arctic ground,

Rolling down to old Maui.



cho.



We'll heave the lead where old Diamondhead

Looms up on old Wahoo.

Our mast and yards are sheathed with ice

And our decks are hid from view.

The horrid tiles of the sea-cut ice

That deck the Arctic Sea

Are miles behind in the frozen wind

Since we steered for old Maui.



cho.



How soft the breeze of the tropic seas

Now the ice is far astern,

And them native maids in them island glades

Are awaiting our return.

Even now their big black eyes look out

Hoping some fine day to see

Our baggy sails running 'fore the gales

Rolling down to old Maui.



cho.



And now we sail with a favoring gale

Towards our island home.

Our mainmast sprung, our whaling done,

And we ain't got far to roam.

Our stuns'l booms are carried away

What care we for that sound?

A living gale is after us,

Thank God we're homeward bound!



cho.



And now we're anchored in the bay

With the Kanakas all around

With chants and soft aloha oes

They greet us homeward bound.

And now ashore we'll have good fun

We'll paint them beaches red

Awaking in the arms of a wahine

With a big fat aching head.



@sailor @home @whaling

collected by Stan Hugill

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