Rolling Down to Old Maui (Roud 2005 )is a traditional sea song which has been performed and recorded by many folksingers, including Stan Rogers. The song expresses the anticipation of the crew of a whaling vessel on its return to Maui after a season of whaling in the Kamchatka Sea.
The song's earliest known appearance in its current form was in Joanna Colcord's Songs of American Sailormen (1938), without a tune. However, the song is clearly related to the song Rolling Down to Old Mohee, collected from the 1858 log of the Atkins Adams.
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 did blow. For 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. (chorus) 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 Through the ice and wind and rain. Them native maids, them tropical glades, We soon shall see again. 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. chorus Once more we sail with a northerly gale Towards our island home. Our mainmast sprung, our whaling done, And we ain't go far to roam. Our stuns'l bones/booms is carried away What care we for that sound? A living gale is after us, Thank God we're homeward bound. chorus How soft the breeze through the island trees, Now the ice is far astern. Them native maids, them tropical glades Is a-waiting our return. Even now their big brown eyes look out Hoping some fine day to see Our baggy sails runnin' 'fore the gales Rolling down to old Maui. chorus (The following verse is seen in some collections and performances of the song, but is not universal:) 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. chorus