Rolling Down To Old Maui

Once more we sail with a favoring gale A-bounding o'er the main, And soon the hills of the tropic clime Will be in view again. Six sluggish months have passed away Since from your shores sailed we, But now we're bound from the Arctic ground Rolling down to old Maui.

ChorusRolling down to old Maui, my boys, Rolling down to old Maui, But now we're bound from the Arctic ground, Rolling down to old Maui.

We will heave our lead where old Diamond Head Looms up on old Oahu, Our masts and rigging are covered with ice, Our decks are filled with snow. The hoary head of the Sea Gull Isles That decks the Arctic Sea, Are many and many leagues astern Since we steered for old Maui. O welcome the seas and the fragrant breeze Laden with odors rare, And the pretty maids in the sunny glades Who are gentle, kind and fair, And their pretty eyes, even now look out, Hoping some day to see Our snow-white sails before the gales Rolling down to old Maui. Once more we sail with a favoring gale Toward our distant home, Our mainmast sprung, we're almost done, Still we ride the ocean's foam. Our stun'sail booms are carried away, What care we for that sound, A living gale is after us, Hurrah! We're homeward bound.

Once more we are waved by the norther gales & bounding oer the main And now the hills of the Tropic Isles we soon shall see again Five sluggish moons have waxed & waned since from the shore wailed we But now are bound from the Artic ground – rooling down to Old Mowhee – Through many a blow of frost & snow & bitter squalls of hail Our spars were bent & canvass rent as we braced the northern gale The horrid Isles of ice cut tiles that deck the Arctic Sea Were many – many leagues astern as we sailed to old Mowhee Through many a gale of snow & hail – our good ship bore away And inn the mist of the moon beams kiss – she sleeps in St. Lawrence bay Many a day we have whiled away in the wild Kamskatcha Sea But we'l think of that as we laugh & chat with the girls of old Mowhee An ample share of toil & care we whalemen undergo But when its oer what care we how bitter the blast may blow We are homeward bound – that joyful sound – and yet it may not be But we'l think of that as we laugh & chat with the girls of old Mowhee (Repeat last two lines of every verse)