It's a damn tough life full of toil and strife We whalermen undergo And we don't give a damn when the day is done How hard the winds did blow Cause we're homeward bound from the Arctic ground 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
Rolling down to Old Maui, me boys Rolling down to Old Maui We're homeward bound from the Arctic Ground Rolling down to Old Maui
Once more we sail with a Northerly gale Towards our island home Our mainmast sprung, our whaling done And we ain't got far to roam Six hellish months have passed away On the cold Kamchatka sea But now we're bound from the Arctic ground Rolling down to Old Maui
Once more we sail the Northerly gale Through the ice, and wind, and rain Them native maids, them tropical glades, We soon shall see again Even now their soft brown eyes look out Hoping some fine day to see Our baggy sails running 'fore the gales Rolling down to Old Maui.
How soft the breeze through the island trees, Now the ice is far astern. Them native maids, them tropical glades Is awaiting our return. I will run anchoured at coast shore And paint them beaches red Awakening in the arms of an island maid With a big fat aching head