Old Maui

Tis a rough tough life
of toil and strife
we whalemen
We don't give a damn
when the gale is done
how hard
the winds do blow.
We're homeword bound,
tis a damn fine sound
with a good ship
taut and free
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 homeword bound
from the arctic ground
Rolling down to old Maui.
Once more we sail
with a northerly gale
through the ice
and sleet and rain
and them coconut fronds
and them tropic lands
oh we soon
shall see again
Six hellish months
have past away
in the cold
Kamchatka Sea
but now we're bound
from the artic ground
Rolling down
to old Maui.
We'll heave the lead
where old Diamond Head
looms up
on old Oahu
Our masts and yards
are sheathed with ice
and our decks
are hid from view
the horrid ice
of the sea cut tiles
that deck
the arctic sea
are miles behind
in the frozen wind
since we steered
for old Maui
How soft the breeze
of the tropic seas
now the ice
is far astern
and them native maids
and them island glades
are awating
our return
and their big black eyes
even now look out
hoping some find day
to see
our baggy sails
running 'fore the gales
Rolling down
to old Maui.
and now we're anchored
in the bay
with the kanakas
all around
with chants
and soft aloha ois
they greet us
homeword bound
and now on shore
we'll have good fun
we'll paint
them beaches red
a'wake'in in the arms
of an island maid
with a big-
fat achin head.