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 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.
 [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 black eyes look out
 Hoping some fine day to see
 Our baggy [bad word]  'fore the gales
 Rolling down to old Maui.
 [bad word]