Rolling Down to Old Maui
This is an off- watch song, sung for pleasure. And it’s all about pleasure – or at least the anticipation of pleasure.
The scene is set on a whaling ship in the far northern Pacific Ocean – the Kamchatka sea, in fact, off Russia. The lads have been whaling in freezing, dangerous conditions for six months, and now it’s time to turn south and set sail for the Hawaiian islands – Maui in particular, which was an unofficial base for American whalers around the turn of the 19th century.
So the sailors sing of the delights that await in the tropics: ease, warmth, women and rum – not necessarily in that order.
The song juxtaposes these delights with the hardships of the voyage, and the ragged condition of the ship (the mainmast is cracked, the stuns’l boom is gone, the sails are baggy with use), giving the song a tension between the present and the future – embodying the rushing anticipation of the whaler men to reach Old Maui.
Singing notes:
Sung at a goodly pace, as befits a whaler on his way to the delights of Maui; each verse builds to the final line sung in full voice by all and sundry. The chorus is a full-throated roar. Don’t hold back. Really.
Drinking notes:
Rum and pineapple cocktail: equal parts rum and pineapple juice, a dash of soda, grated nutmeg and pineapple chunk garnish.
ROLLING DOWN TO OLD MAUI
It's a damn tough life, full of toil and strife, we whaler men undergo,
And we won't give a damn when the gale is done how hard the winds did blow
'cause we're homeward bound from the Arctic grounds with a good ship taught and free,
And we won't give a damn when we drink our rum with the girls from old Maui.
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 the northerly gales through the ice and wind and rain
Them coconut fronds, them tropical lands, we soon shall see again;
Six hellish months we've passed away on the cold Kamchatka sea,
But now we're bound from the Arctic ground, rolling down to old Maui.
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 the Northerly gales, towards our island home,
Our mainmast sprung, our whaling done, and we ain't got far to roam;
Our stuns'l's bones is carried away, what care we for that sound,
A living gale is after us, thank God we're homeward bound.
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.
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 day to see,
Our baggy sails, running 'fore the gales, rolling down to old Maui.
