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