To the tables down at Mory's To the place where Louis 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 Louis 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!
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