To the tables down at Mory’s
To the place where Louie dwells
To the dear old Temple bar we love so well
Sing the Whiffenpoofs assembled with their glasses raised on high
And the magic of their singing casts its spell
Yes, the magic of their singing of the songs we love so well
«Shall I Wasting» and «Mavourneen» and the rest
We will serenade our Louie while life and voice shall last
Then we’ll pass and be forgotten with the rest
We’re poor little lambs who have lost our way
Baa, baa, baa
We’re little black sheep who have gone astray
Baa, baa, baa
Gentleman songsters off on a spree
Doomed from here to eternity
Lord have mercy on such as we Baa, baa, baa