| 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 |