Dead Horse Shanty
Ceremonial Halyard shanty
​
A poor old man came a-riding by,
Resp: And we say so! And we hope so
Says I, "Old man, your horse will die".
Resp: Oh, poor old horse!
And if he dies we'll tan his hide,
But if he lives we'll ride him again.
For a month a rotten life we've led,
While you've lain in your feather bed.
But now that month is up, old Turk,
Get up, you swine, and look for work.
Get up, you swine, and look for graft,
While we lays on, and yanks you aft.
And after work and sore abuse,
We'll salt you down for sailor's use.
He's as dead as a nail in the lamp room door,
And he won't come hazing us no more.
We'll hoist him up to the main yardarm,
And drop him down to the bottom of the sea.
We'll sink him down with a long, long roll,
Where the sharks 'll have his body, and the devil have his soul!
I thought I heard the Old Man say,
Just one more pull and then belay!
Down to Old Maui
Capstan shanty
It's a rough, tough life full of toil and strife
we whaler-men undergo.
And we don't give a damn when the gale is done
how hard the winds did blow.
We're homeward bound from the Arctic ground
with a good ship, taut and free
And we won't give a damn when we drink our rum
with the girls of Old Maui.
CHORUS
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.
Through many a blow, of frost and snow,
and wind and sleet and hail
Our spars were bent, and our canvas rent,
as we braved the northern gale
The horrid isles, of ice-cut tiles,
that deck the Arctic Sea
Are many, many leagues astern,
as we sail for old Maui
We’ll heave the lead, where ol’ Diamond Head,
looms up on ol’Wahoo
Our masts and yards are sheathed with ice,
and our decks are hid from view
Pour stuns’l bo9oms were carried away,
what care we for that sound
With our baggy sails, runnin’ fore the gales,
thank god we’re homeward bound
Once more we sail with a northerly gale
towards our island home.
Our mainmast sprung, our whaling done
and we ain't got far to roam.
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.
And now we sail with a favorable gale
toward our island home
Our mainyard sprung, and our whaling done,
and we ain’t6 got far to roam
Six hellish months have passed away
in that cold Kamchjatka Sea
And we’ll think of that as we laugh and chat
with the girls of old Maui
And now we're anchored in the bay
with the Kanakas all around
With chants and soft “aloha oes”
they greet us homeward bound.
And now ashore we'll have good fun,
we'll paint them beaches red
Awaking in the arms of an island maid,
with a big fat achin’ head.