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Once more we are waft by the northern gales a-bounding over the main, |
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And soon the hills of the tropic isles we all shall see again. |
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Five sluggish moons have waxed and waned since from the shores sailed we, |
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And now we are bound from the Arctic ground, rolling down to old Maui. |
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Through many a gale of frost and hail, our big ship bore away, |
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And in the midst of a moonbeam's kiss we slept at St. Lawrence Bay, |
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And many's the day we whiled away on the bold Kamchatka Sea, |
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But now we are bound from the Arctic ground, rolling down to old Maui. |
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Rolling down to old Maui, me boys, |
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Rolling down to old Maui. |
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We're homeward bound from the Arctic ground, |
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Rolling down to old Maui. |
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Through many a blow of frost and snow and bitter squalls of hail, |
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Our spires were bent and our canvas rent as we brave the northern gale. |
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The cruel isles of ice-capped tiles that deck the Arctic sea, |
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Are many, many leagues astern as we sail to old Maui. |
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Rolling down to old Maui, me boys, |
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Rolling down to old Maui. |
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We're homeward bound from the Arctic ground, |
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Rolling down to old Maui. |
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An ample share of toil and care we whalemen undergo, |
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But when it's over, what care we how bitter the blast may blow? |
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We're homeward bound, that joyful sound across the Arctic sea, |
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We're homeward bound from the Arctic ground, rolling down to old Maui. |
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Rolling down to old Maui, me boys, |
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Rolling down to old Maui. |
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We're homeward bound from the Arctic ground, |
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Rolling down to old Maui. |
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Homeward bound from the Arctic ground, |
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Rolling down to old Maui. |
