Molokaʻi Dirt
I wrote the lyrics to this song in April 2026 after we took a trip to Kaluako'i Ranch on Moloka'i. My son Kele had gone into a partnership with Jim, another pilot from Hawaiian Airlines in refurbishing this homestead mauka of Kaluako'i resort on the west end of Moloka'i. This 60-acre homestead had an FAA-recognised County Government-approved airstrip on, it which is what drew Kele and Jim to this place. When they acquired the property it was in very bad condition. In trying to clean this property up it quickly became apparent that the Moloka'i dirt was going to be a problem. The fine dirt got into everything. I wrote the lyrics but because I had developed arthritis in my left hand middle finger I could no longer play the guitar. It was then I decided to try using AI to compose the music. This is what resulted.
I stepped off the plane in the Molokaʻi sun,
Came for work and hoped for some fun,
But that red dirt rose like it knew my name,
Hit me so hard—I’ll never be the same.
It clung to my legs, climbed up my shirt,
Found every crack—this mischievous dirt,
In my nose, in my ears, in places unknown,
I swore that dirt had a mind of its own.
Oh that Molokaʻi dirt, sneaky and slick,
Gets in your pores and it settles in quick,
In your hair, in your shorts, in your Sunday best,
You’ll be finding that dirt where you least expect.
You scrub and you scrub till your skin feels thin,
But that red still shows when you dry your skin,
You can run, you can hide, you can even pray—
But that Molokaʻi dirt does not go away!
When the rain comes down—now here’s the twist,
That powdery dirt turns into a muddy fist,
It grabs your boots, wouldn’t let ‘em go,
Builds up thick from toe to toe,
Now I’m not dusty—I’m covered in clay,
Molokaʻi mud says, “You are mine today.”
Oh that Molokaʻi dirt, bold and proud,
Floats like smoke, settles like a cloud,
Gets in your life, won’t be ignored,
Tracks right in through your front door.
You curse it out, but deep inside,
You kinda smile with a little pride,
’Cause once that dirt gets under your skin—
You know Molokaʻi has just let you in.