It's a [bad word] tough life full of toil and strife
We whalermen undergo.
And we don't give a [bad word] 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 [bad word] when we drink [bad word] 
With the girls of Old Maui.

 [bad word] 
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 coconut fronds, them tropical lands
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.

 [bad word] 

Once more we sail with a northerly gale
Towards our island home.
Our mainmast [bad word]  our whaling done,
And we ain't got far to roam.
Our stu'n's'l bones/booms is carried away
What care we for that sound?
living gale is after us,
Thank God we're homeward bound.

 [bad word] 

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 [bad word] #39; 'fore the gales
Rolling down to old Maui.