To the tables down at Morey'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 it's 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.
Gentlemen songsters off on a spree Doomed from here to eternity, Lord, have mercy on such as we, Baa Baa Baa.