From the tables down at Mory's,
To the place where Louie dwells,
And 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 a 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,
Till health and voices fail'
And we'll pass and be forgotten with the rest.

We are poor little lambs
Who have lost our way,
Baa!Baa!Baa!
We are 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,