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To the tables down at Mory’sTo the place where Louie dwellsTo the dear old Temple bar we love so wellSing the Whiffenpoofs assembled with their glasses raised on highAnd the magic of their singing casts it’s spell
Yes, the magic of their singing of the songs we love so well“Shall I Wasting” and “Mavourneen” and the restWe will serenade our Louie while life and voice shall lastThen we’ll pass and be forgotten with the rest
We’re poor little lambs who have lost our wayBaa, baa, baaWe’re little black sheep who have gone astrayBaa, baa, baa
Gentleman songsters off on a spreeDoomed from here to eternityLord have mercy on such as weBaa, baa, baa