It's a damned tough life, full of toil and strife
We pirates undergo.
And we don't give a damn when the gale has stopped
How hard the wind did blow.
We're homeward bound! 'Tis a grand old sound
On a good ship taut and free,
And we don't give a damn when we drink our rum
With the girls on old Maui.
Rolling down to old Maui, my boys,
Rolling down to old Maui.
We're bound for port with loot in store
Rolling home to old Maui.
Once more we sail with a northerly gale
Our Roger flying free.
And them coconut fronds in them tropic lands
We soon again shall see.
Six hellish months we've passed away
In our prowling of the sea,
And now we're bound for port once more,
Rolling down to old Maui.
We'll fill our holds with the Frenchmen's gold
Their wines and liquor too.
Our mast and yards can take the hits
their guns and cannon threw.
When our names they hear their filled with fear
All across the seven seas
But we'll think on that as we laugh and chat
With the girls of old Maui.
How soft the breeze of the tropic seas
Now the fight is far astern,
And them native maids in them island glades
Are awaiting our return.
Even now their big black eyes look out
Hoping some fine day to see
Our baggy sails running 'fore the gales
Rolling down to old Maui.
And now we sail with a favoring gale
Towards our island home.
Our mainmast sprung, our looting done,
And we ain't got far to roam.
Our stuns'l booms are carried away
What care we for that sound?
A living gale is after us,
Thank God we're homeward bound!
And now we're anchored in the bay
With our booty in our hands
The smell of swine and sweet French wine
They greet us back to land.
And now ashore we'll have good fun
We'll paint them beaches red
Awaking in the arms of a woman
With a big fat aching head.
