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