Bilge Pumps Rolling 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
Rolling down to Old Maui, me boys
Rolling down to Old Maui
We're homeward bound from the Arctic Ground
And now we sail with a Northerly gale through the ice, and wind, and rain
Them coconut fronds, them tropical lands we soon shall see again
Six hellish months we passed away on the cold Kamchaltka sea
But now we're bound from the Arctic ground rolling down to Old Maui
Once more we sail 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 anchoured in the bay with the Kanakas all around
With chants and soft aloha-oos we're welcomed 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
